


Truth or Dare

by sleepyowlet



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-05-02
Updated: 2010-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyowlet/pseuds/sleepyowlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Damn. The fluff!Bunny bit me again. Contains spoilers, some possible ooc-ness and playful!Anora.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Damn. The fluff!Bunny bit me again. Contains spoilers, some possible ooc-ness and playful!Anora.

 

 **Truth or Dare**

by owlet

 

The celebration was slowly winding down; many guests had already left or were on their way to being completely drunk. Loghain had slunk off to a dark corner of the hall and watched the Warden and her friends sitting in a circle a little way off. He was somewhat jealous of the easy camaraderie they shared; even if he had been part of their small group, he had never felt that he belonged; seeing their playful interaction now just drove the point home. The mage and the Qunari had already gone to bed, only the Warden, the bard, the assassin, the dwarf and the Bastard were left.

They were radiant, all of them, but She most of all, seeing her now, cross-legged on the floor, a glass of wine in her hand giggling like a little girl made it hard to believe that she was the one who had united his Ferelden against a Blight.

The group laughed as the bard blushed, got up and proceeded to sit in the assassin's lap.

The merriment abated a little when they became aware of his daughter ambling over to them.

...

Anora finished her glass of wine, and made her way over to the unlikely group of companions who had saved her country. Her father seemed to be in one of his moods, so she had no desire to talk to him right now. He watched the Warden and her friends like a hawk, and if she had read him right over the day, especially the Warden. She found that a little surprising, Ceridwen Amell was a mage, and her father had never really cared for those. But he seemed to care about her. It wasn't obvious, but Anora knew her father pretty well, better than he thought.

And the Warden ... she didn't seem to be indifferent to him either, Anora had caught her looking at him when she thought nobody would notice. The Warden hadn't asked for much when she had offered to grant her a boon, so the least Ceridwen Amell deserved was a little happiness. In Anora's opinion her father deserved the same; so why not kill two birds with one stone?

...

 

"Warden."

Ceridwen scrambled to her feet.

"Your Majesty," she said with a respectful bow.

The Queen waved her off.

"I owe you an apology, I think," she said.

Ceridwen just blinked owlishly.

"For using you to get my position back. I usually wouldn't have done that, but I saw no other way," she looked at the group curiously. "Why are you sitting on the floor?"

Ceridwen blushed a little.

"We got a little bored, so Zevran suggested a game they play in Antiva. It's called Truth or Dare. You set parameters before you start, and then the first person challenges someone of their choice to either reveal a truth about themselves, or do something that takes a little daring. After the Truth is told or the Dare completed the second person challenges someone else. And so on. If you don't want to do the one you pick, you'll have to do the other."

The Queen seemed to mull something over.

"May I join in? I find myself somewhat bored as well. And it's been a long time since I have not been the Queen, but just Anora."

It seemed to Ceridwen as if the Queen was slightly tipsy as well.

"If you'd like ... objections anyone?"

There was a chorus of murmured denials, even if Alistair looked a little uncomfortable.

"All right, the rules are nothing that may be potentially harmful or fatal. Anything else goes."

Ceridwen settled back down, and Anora took Leliana's now empty spot on the floor.

"Right, Leliana, it's your turn."

Leliana pursed her lips.

"Well ... Oghren, Truth or Dare?"

The dwarf belched and answered, "Dare."

Leliana grinned.

"I dare you to dance to the song I'm going to play."

"Ha! I'll have you know that I was quite the dancer in my youth!"

Leliana reached over to grab her lute, and started to play a melancholy, wistful tune.

Oghren listened for a moment, and started to sway his hips seductively gesturing wildly with his arms, a comically moonstruck expression on his face. What he lacked in grace he made up with enthusiasm, and the overall effect was hilarious.

Ceridwen shook with laughter, and almost spilled her wine; the rest of her friends didn't fare any better, even the Queen was wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

Eventually Leliana was finished playing and Oghren sat back down.

"Zevran, Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

Oghren grinned dirtily.

"Ye've got a pretty lass in yer lap, kiss her neck for a while."

"With pleasure," the Antivan elf purred and bent his head over Leliana's neck, causing her to become quite bug-eyed.

"Your Majesty," he said between nibbles, "Truth or Dare?"

"Tonight it's Anora. Just Anora. I pick Truth," the Queen said.

"Have you ever strayed to another man or woman during your marriage?"

"No, I've always been faithful. Even if my husband didn't do me the same courtesy."

Ceridwen threw a glance into the dark corner where Loghain still stood watching them with the habitual scowl on his face; thus she missed the calculating glance that the Queen shot her.

"Warden."

"Ceridwen," she corrected turning to face the Queen.

"Ceridwen, Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Is there anyone you are infatuated with at the moment and if yes, who is it?"

Ceridwen swallowed. No way she was going to answer that.

"Er ... I'd rather have a Dare."

The Queen grinned at her devilishly.

"I dare you to go over there and kiss my father. A real kiss, not just a peck."

Ceridwen recoiled in shock.

"I thought we agreed on nothing potentially harmful or lethal?"

"Kissing my father hardly counts as that. I have it on good authority that my mother did it time and again, but she never died of it. She had a riding-accident."

Ceridwen gaped at her, opening and closing her mouth like a fish.

"But ... but ..."

"No buts," the Queen said decisively, "Either you tell the Truth or you complete the Dare. Those are the rules, no?"

The Warden took a deep breath and got to her feet.

"Fine. But if he does kill me, I'm going to come back as a ghost and haunt you for the rest of your life," she growled.

The Queen didn't seem impressed at all, and just carelessly waved her hand.

"Go on."

Ceridwen turned around and slowly went over to Loghain. He saw her coming, of course, raising an eyebrow at her when she stopped in front of him.

"Warden?"

She just sighed and motioned for him to bend down a little. He did so with a quizzical look on his face, probably thinking she wanted to whisper something in his ear.

It wasn't quite enough, she still couldn't reach him, so she grabbed the tiny braids next to his face and pulled him down the rest of the way, squeezing her eyes shut as their lips met.

It wasn't much of a kiss, of course, for one he didn't respond at all; so she quickly let go of his hair, mumbled, "Sorry, Queen's orders," and fled back to the circle of her friends.

Her glass had been refilled in her absence, and she grabbed it and gulped down most of its contents before looking at the others.

Oghren was wriggling his eyebrows at her, Zevran and Leliana looked amused, Alistair looked faintly nauseated and the Queen like the cat that ate the bird. Or five.

"You're blushing," the Queen remarked.

"Of course I'm blushing, that was absolutely humiliating!"

 _In more ways than one_ , she thought. What had Jowan always said? Don't get angry, get even.

"Alistair? Truth or Dare?"

"Dare."

"There's a broom-closet just down the hall. Take your soon to be bride and make out with her in there. Anora, I count on you that you'll be as insistent with him that he completes his dare, as you were with me."

That seemed to have gotten her, as she stared at Ceridwen in shock.

Alistair was blushing and stuttering, and finally Anora just rolled her eyes and dragged him off, Oghren following to have an eye on the correct completion of the Dare, as he said.

Suddenly there were only three people left, and after a while Zevran stood and helped Leliana to her feet.

"I think we'll bid you a good night, it's rather unlikely that they'll be back," he said.

Leliana hugged her and followed him out.

Feeling a little abandoned, Ceridwen went out on the terrace to get some air; the wine had made her a little light-headed. She sat her glass down on the balustrade and enjoyed the view of the city of Denerim bathed in moonlight.

"Would you care to explain to me what that was about earlier," came a familiar, terse voice from behind her.

"Oh Maker," Ceridwen gasped turning around, "You scared me. I'm so, so sorry about that. It was just a silly game..."

She babbled on explaining the rules, saying that she was sorry again and again.

"Stop apologizing, what's done is done," Loghain snapped impatiently.

Ceridwen froze mid-sentence and swallowed hard.

"You could however make amends," he continued, his voice only marginally softer.

"Yes ... yes, of course. How?"

He took a step closer so they were almost touching and put a hand on the balustrade on either side of her.

"Don't move," he murmured, and swooped down on her lips in a kiss that made her feel another kind of light-headedness that had nothing whatsoever to do with the wine; somehow she found herself pressed against his breastplate with her hands in his hair.

When he finally pulled back, one corner of his mouth was pulled up in a slight smirk.

"If you would like to continue this, I believe you know where my room is," he said, pushing away from the balustrade.

Ceridwen watched him leave still frozen in place, her mind in complete confusion.

Only one thought made it to the surface as she slowly made her way up the stairs: _Alistair was wrong, swooping isn't bad at all._

 _  
_

_DA:O DA:O DA:O_

Thank you for reading, please tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, this story moves to M.
> 
> I hate the undies they have in the game. I'm not using those.
> 
> Thanks to mille libri and mnomaha for betaing this chapter and bearing with my griping!

 

 **Truth or Dare - Chapter 2**

by owlet

 

 

The corridor was dark and empty; a good thing too, so nobody could see a certain mage standing in front of a certain door with her finger curled and raised to knock. Nobody would know in the morning that she had been standing here for quite a while, undecided if she had the nerve to actually make her presence known to the man inside.

To knock, or not to knock; that was the question.

Her heart was going a mile a minute and her stomach did flip-flops – at least that was what it felt like to Ceridwen. She licked her lips nervously. The kiss had been ... extraordinary, and she wanted more. More kisses, more touches, more everything; her entire being seemed to pulsate with desire.

But was it a good idea? Had he meant it or was he just getting her back for the humiliating moment at the celebration? He wasn't exactly a nice man; but then – did she want nice? She rubbed her face with her other hand and took a deep breath. Gathering all the courage she could muster (she hadn't been this afraid of the Archdemon, for the Maker's sake), she knocked twice, very softly.

...

 

Loghain sat behind his desk and studied the map in front of him. It was a slightly whimsical piece that he always carried with him; a rendering of the borders he would like Ferelden to have. He had shed his armour and was dressed in a simple shirt of fine, unbleached linen and matching trousers, the very last of the layers that usually separated steel from skin. Many would scoff if they knew, but it had never made sense to him to wear expensive, elaborate clothes where no one would see them.

His eyes were on the map, but his thoughts continued to stray to the woman he was waiting for. Would she come? She had seemed eager enough on the terrace, but maybe he had scared her away with his forwardness and careless words. He had come to respect her during their travels, her courage and sharp wit, the way she could talk anyone into anything (even him, no, maybe especially him), the way she handled problems, the way she fought (she was bloody dangerous, but it was so easy to forget) – and somewhere along the line it had occurred to him that she also was a beautiful woman with soft skin and gentle curves.

Loghain was so deep in thought that he almost missed two barely audible knocks on his door.

A triumphant glint appeared in his ice-blue eyes as he went to let her in.

...

 

"You took your time."

"Yes, well ... I," Ceridwen fumbled for words helplessly, her famed silver tongue deserting her around him as it always did lately. Her eyes were wide and every muscle in her body was taut, ready to propel her back to her own room in a flash (to hide under the bed, or better yet, to dig herself a hole); she felt so awfully vulnerable and he was very intimidating even out of his armour.

He was out of his armour.

Oh.

"Come in," he simply said, taking a step to the side to let her pass.

Ceridwen swallowed hard and cautiously entered the room. It looked lived in, various knick-knacks decorating the furniture and she remembered his grim amusement at finding out that nobody had found the time (or the nerve) to evict him from his rather luxurious quarters after his disgrace at the Landsmeet.

She jumped a little when she felt his hands on her shoulders.

"Shall we continue where we left off," he murmured into her ear from behind, catching her lobe with his lips.

Her knees got weak and she barely managed to turn around without losing her footing.

"Yes..."

Loghain lowered his lips to hers gently this time and Ceridwen's eyes closed of their own accord. His hands travelled up and down her back and hers soon found their way under his shirt to bare skin; he shuddered at her touch and deepened the kiss, hands tangling in her hair now.

He pulled back abruptly and stared at her with a calculating expression on his face.

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage here, my dear. We can't have that, can we?"

"What," Ceridwen asked blinking.

Loghain didn't answer, just started making short work of the fastenings of her robe until it opened; Ceridwen blushed and looked away. She could feel his eyes burning on her skin and could barely restrain the impulse to pull the fabric back over her front and run away.

" _But ... a bear is so big, how would I hide?"_

" _Hiding doesn't solve anything."_

How odd to think about her Harrowing now of all times.

He took her chin and turned her face back to his.

"You're lovely," he said earnestly, kissing her again, trailing his fingertips over her newly revealed skin. They were warm, part of her was a little surprised; he had always seemed so cold to her. The robe fell to the floor and he pulled her close; Ceridwen gingerly rested her head against his shoulder. She felt safe, safe and warm, which was somewhat at odds with her racing pulse. Loghain pulled the pins out of her hair and undid the braids, then fiddled with the cloth that she had bound her breasts with; it came undone and slipped to her hips. When he brought his hands between them, gently touched her nipples and then cupped his hands over the soft mounds of flesh, she moaned into his mouth when he claimed hers again.

Loghain broke the kiss and picked her up, walking the few steps to his bed and deposited her there. Ceridwen looked at him nervously as he lay down next to her. Doubt assailed her again, but it didn't last long into the next kiss. This time she was the one to pull away.

"Now you have me at a disadvantage," she said tugging at his shirt, "And we can't have that either, can we?"

He chuckled and drew his shirt over his head, casting it aside.

"No, I think we can't."

Ceridwen took a moment to study him, his solid, muscular physique (well, he did wear plate armour every day) and the marks his life had left on him. She reached out to trace a particular vivid scar on his right shoulder; it was long and puckered, white with age.

"A souvenir from the previous owner of my armour. Not all healers are as competent as your friend Wynne; and after the battle of the river Dane they were very busy indeed."

"I can imagine," she said, pointing to three white dots on her upper torso, "Arrows. Flemeth patched those up; but I guess she wasn't much concerned with aesthetics either."

"Ah yes, I see. Ostagar," he said, his face darkening.

Ceridwen cursed herself and grabbed his head looking into his eyes resolutely.

"That's not what I meant. Past, forgotten. The only one who died there that I really cared about was Duncan; and I've spent a lot of time cursing him because he didn't tell us anything that a Warden needs to know. I only pointed these out to you because I think they're ... not pretty. And they have a strange texture."

Loghain seemed to relax and turned them over so he was on top of her.

"Hm, let me see that..."

He traced the first of the three scars (near her collarbone) with his tongue, then the second (her shoulder) and the third (on her right breast).

"Nothing too interesting there, I think. Well, but this on the other hand..."

Ceridwen gasped and stared at the ceiling wide-eyed when his lips closed around her nipple.

He moved to the other one; she trailed her fingertips over the nape of his neck. He hummed in pleasure, feeling pleased she did it again and didn't protest when he pulled back a little and got rid of the rest of their clothes.

His hands wandered down her body and his eyes never left hers as he slipped one between her legs, gently exploring, finding slippery wetness there.

"Are you sure?"

Ceridwen swallowed and closed her eyes, unable to bear his penetrating gaze any longer.

"Yes ... yes, please."

She wasn't a virgin, of course the apprentices to the Circle experimented – watching Templars or no. It was something of a bonus, actually, forcing them to bear witness to lovemaking that they were forbidden to experience.

He entered her and it felt wonderful, even more so when he began to move languidly. Wonderful but not quite enough.

"Loghain, I'm not made of glass. Just ... let go."

He kissed her and sped up, his strokes becoming harder, deeper. Ceridwen began to mewl and pant, clinging to him. She was close, so close...

He suddenly stopped, deeply embedded in her.

Opening her eyes and looking at him in confusion she asked, "Loghain, what..." and then saw his devilish smile.

"You're a fiend," she complained raking her fingernails over his shoulders.

Loghain snorted and retaliated by biting her neck, sucking sharply at her skin.

"As if you didn't know that before."

Ceridwen made an unarticulated sound of frustration, scratching him again for good measure.

"Dammit ... move!"

She felt him chuckle silently, but he complied. It didn't take long for her to climb to the edge again and this time he took them both over it.

Catching her breath she opened her eyes to darkness; the candle on Loghain's desk had died sometime in the last minutes.

...

 

Loghain withdrew from her, rolling to his side and taking her with him. He was quite grateful for the sudden darkness, else she would see his face. He was shocked at the depth of feeling that overcame him; he had been so sure that he was no longer capable of the like. Maybe it was just the situation: he had often almost felt like he loved his wife just after he had lain with her after all. He drew the blankets up from beneath them and wrapped them around himself and the woman in his arms. She sighed contently and snuggled up to him, resting her head against his shoulder. Maybe everything would sort itself out in the morning.


	3. Truth or Dare Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I strike again. Cyber-Cookies for who finds the nod towards Tolkien.
> 
> Thanks to mille libri for betaing, you're the best!

 

 

 **Truth or Dare - Chapter 3  
**

by owlet

 

Ceridwen was quite disoriented when she woke. She was snuggled up against a warm, solid body, but her head was spinning.

She tried to remember. Ah yes, Truth or Dare, kissing Loghain, then...

Oh Maker.

She had ... she had ... _slept_ with Loghain.

Oh _Maker_.

She looked up at him. He was still asleep, his face relaxed and kind of alluring without the scowl. And his lips...

No. She had to get out of here before he woke and came to his senses. They had both been quite drunk, after all.

Gingerly she slipped out of his arms and got to her feet, the room spinning around her. Oh damn. She lurched forward behind the paravent just in time to spew the contents of her stomach into his washing-bowl. Retching helplessly she heard a rustle behind her and then two hands brushed her hair out of her face and held it behind her.

Ceridwen was close to crying. She had never been that humiliated in her whole life. When she was only dry heaving, she stood up carefully and took deep breaths of air. Loghain let go of her hair, went to his night-stand, and came back with a glass of water.

"Here. Take a few sips. You're probably going to bring that up again, but you should be all right after that."

"Thank you," she whispered, taking the glass from him with a badly shaking hand, and sipped carefully. Tears were streaking down her face and she wiped them off awkwardly. Loghain took the glass from her, set it down, and pulled her to lean against his chest. A few moments later she was doubled up over the basin again.

"Somebody please kill me," she muttered when she came back up.

"It can't be all that bad. Rinse."

She did so.

"Now go back to bed. I'll take care of this."

Ceridwen briefly considered defying him, getting dressed and leaving, but she felt too wretched; she probably wouldn't make it to her room. So she simply did as he'd said and crawled back under the blankets, trying to get her shivering under control.

Loghain rejoined her after chucking her mess out of the window into the flowerbeds below.

"I'm so sorry," she said miserably, hiding her face in the pillow.

He snorted and kissed the nape of her neck as he wrapped himself around her from behind.

"You're hardly the first woman I've seen vomiting."

Mulling the situation over, she came to the conclusion that she felt strangely reassured. He hadn't ridiculed her, hadn't tossed her out on her ear (or ass), had taken care of her; and now he was holding her gently, kissing her shoulders.

Her nerves calmed and so did her stomach, he'd been right about that. She still felt as weak as a kitten.

"How do you feel?"

"Awful. But getting better," she answered.

"Good to hear it. You should try to get some more sleep, it's still early."

...

 

Oghren was quite amused at the cloud-heads he was sharing the breakfast-table with. They only nibbled at the delicious food, and whenever he took a sip of his morning-ale, they went an interesting shade of green. Wynne was sitting nearby, looking as calm as usual. He'd seen neither hide nor hair of the rest of his companions.

No, there was Ceridwen, accompanied by Loghain. Oghren sighed. He'd never get a word out of that one concerning the juicy bits.

He glanced over at Wynne and saw that her face was pinched in displeasure now, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Ceridwen and Loghain sat down across the table. The Warden looked a little peaky and ... was that a love-bite on her neck? Oghren grinned.

"Hello there. Had a good night?," he asked wriggling his eyebrows.

"Meddle not in the affairs of mages; they are subtle and quick to anger," the Warden replied letting a flame dance around her fingers.

"Just asking," the dwarf grunted. "You were more fun when you were drunk."

Ceridwen chose some scrambled eggs and bread and slowly began to eat.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You sent Her Majesty and Alistair into a cupboard," he chuckled, "Where they indeed made out. And when I came back from getting myself another pint, they were both gone. You were gone, Leliana and Zevran were gone, so I suppose everybody had a very good night indeed. Oh, look."

Ceridwen turned around and saw the Queen and Alistair entering the room. She was as regal and pristine as always, he was slightly hunched with a small grin and a blush affixed to his face. No question what had happened there.

Glancing over at Loghain, Ceridwen was slightly disturbed at his expression – she'd seen thunderclouds look cheerier. He got up abruptly and left without a word before the couple could reach the table.

"Good morning, Warden, Wynne, Oghren," the Queen greeted them cordially, "I trust you slept well?"

A chorus of "Yes, Your Majesty," answered her and Oghren could see Ceridwen blush. Ha, there were definitely juicy bits there.

"Warden, I have news for you, please come and see me later," the Queen added in Ceridwen's direction and passed on to her seat at the head of the table, Alistair waved shyly and blushed harder, trailing behind her.

"Ceridwen, what were you thinking?," Wynne hissed disapprovingly.

"I wasn't," Ceridwen answered and put her fork down. She got up and Oghren briefly watched her go, taking another sip of ale. Ah, whatever.

...

 

Anora finished her breakfast feeling rather satisfied. Alistair had proven to be very sweet and honest, even if he was a little naïve. Once she had made him open up a little, it became apparent to her that he had a good head on his shoulders and that his stupidity was just an act, one ingrained in him since his early childhood. She had never liked Arl Eamon, but now she liked him even less; King Maric had trusted him to take care of his bastard son – and Eamon had not done right by Alistair by a long shot. A part of her wondered what it had been like for him as a little boy, disregarded and unloved, and what would be different about him, had he known a proper family.

She herself had never doubted that her father loved her, even if he had been hard on her at times and had never been one to openly express his feelings. But she knew that she'd had him twisted around her little finger since before she could walk, that there wasn't much he wouldn't do for her.

Cailan's death and her father's part in it had caused a rift between them, one she hoped they could mend in time; but the way he'd stormed off a few moments ago made her worry.

Her thoughts shifted to what she planned to tell the Warden. It hadn't been difficult to convince Alistair that this was a good idea; he'd been all for it once she had mentioned another reward for the Hero of Ferelden.

She rose and glanced affectionately at her Betrothed, who was still enjoying his breakfast. Better to go and look for Ceridwen, no time like the present after all.

...

 

Ceridwen ambled through the palace vaguely on the way to the Queen's chambers. She was so deep in thought, that she didn't notice the looming figure approaching her purposefully.

Loghain grabbed Ceridwen by the neck and pushed her against the wall.

"You sent that mongrel into a cupboard with my _daughter_?"

"I told you, it was just a game," she croaked, the metal of his gauntlet digging into her skin. "Besides, they are going to marry!"

"That is completely beside the point," he growled, releasing her.

" _Father_!"

Anora had just appeared from behind and she looked furious.

"It isn't as if Alistair dragged me off against my will. I've been married once, I've ruled this country for over five years; don't you think I'm old and grown up enough to make my own decisions?"

" _Daughters never grow up. They remain little girls with pigtails and skinned knees forever,"_ Ceridwen remembered him saying.

Loghain looked stricken.

"I... I'm sorry, Anora."

The queen was on a roll, though.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to her! Just look, she's already bruising. Just be glad she didn't blast you down the corridor."

Ceridwen hadn't moved from the spot and watched the heated exchange between father and daughter in amazement. Did they always go head to head like this?

Probably.

Anora irritably opened a door to a small sitting-room.

"In here," she growled, sounding remarkably like her father.

Loghain's face was an impassive mask when he chose a spot near the window and leant against the wall. Ceridwen awkwardly stood in the middle of the room until the Queen waved her into a chair.

"I told you I had news for you, so I might just as well tell you now. Since you," she glanced at Loghain, "lost your position as the Teyrn of Gwaren and I can't just give it back to you, we seem to have a vacancy."

Ceridwen stared at her quizzically. Where was she going with this?

"I have decided, and my future husband agreed, that it would be best if you," she looked at Ceridwen, "became the next Teyrna."

"What? Your Majesty, I know nothing about running a town, and I'm certainly not a noble!"

Loghain chuckled in amusement.

"Those were almost my exact words, when Maric dropped this on me thirty years ago."

Anora shot a wry smile at him and turned back to Ceridwen.

"I'm sure my father will gladly assist you wherever you need. I will make the announcement tomorrow and I'm leaving the details to you," she said regally, every inch the Queen. Then she sighed.

"You should probably go and see your healer. And get some rest, you still look a little pale," she said with a smile, then turned to Loghain once more, "Father," she said curtly and quit the room.

Loghain moved over to where Ceridwen still sat, armour clinking lightly as he went.

"I'm sorry," he said, crouching down next to her, touching her neck with a bare hand.

"Stop apologizing, what's done is done," Ceridwen threw his own words back at him.

"But I can make amends, I hope?"

Ceridwen grinned at him lopsidedly.

"Yes, you can accompany me to Wynne, so she can't chew me out in private. And you get to explain to her how I managed to get my neck bruised."

He winced.

"I've had enough poisonous glares from her to last me a lifetime," he said wryly, "but if this is the way to earn your forgiveness, I shall brave the terrifying creature at your side."

Looking at him askance, Ceridwen asked, "You're joking, right?"

"Only half."

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," she laughed, taking his hand and patting it.

Loghain grabbed her and drew her to her feet with him.

"Come to think of it, why didn't you, as my daughter put it, blast me down the corridor?"

"I don't know," Ceridwen answered sheepishly, "Probably because I felt a little guilty. I know that you love her very much, and I can understand your anger at me. If you had squeezed any harder, I would have set you aflame, though."

"I will keep that in mind. What you did to me at the Landsmeet was painful enough. I had never seen a mage using a sword before; you were quite a nasty surprise."

Ceridwen shrugged.

"I've gotten requests to teach other mages at the Circle, but Greagoir almost had kittens at the idea. Just imagine: a bunch of mages in heavy plate, armed with swords ... they'd wipe the floor with the Templars. Their mana-draining abilities would be all but useless. Should we recruit any mages though, I'm definitely going to teach them, if they want to learn. Have we procrastinated enough yet? Let's go and see Wynne."

...

 

They found her in the gardens, sitting on a bench soaking in the sun. She was one of the last people Loghain wanted to see right now, but he did feel guilty. He very likely wouldn't have before last night, but after seeing Ceridwen so open and vulnerable ... and he had never lain a hand in anger on a lover before.

The mage opened her eyes and her gimlet stare immediately found the bruises on the other mage's neck.

"What did you do now?"

"That is my fault, madam," Loghain said with forced politeness. "I lost my temper."

He wanted nothing more than to wring the old crone's neck, but she was Ceridwen's friend and mentor. Her constant moralizing just grated on him; she had a knack for making him feel even worse than he already did.

"And she let you live?"

"Apparently," he bit out. He glanced at the woman beside him, who just looked on with a slight smile on her face and said nothing to defend him. Vicious little thing.

"You really didn't think, did you?," she asked Ceridwen, waving her hand and muttering a few words that caused the bruises to disappear; including the love-bite he'd given her last night, and he was a little sad to see it go. Ah well, perhaps she'd let him give her a new one.

"Wynne, please. He apologized and I have forgiven him. It's all right."

The old mage sighed and shook her head.

"Well it isn't really my business, isn't it? But you can't fault me for worrying about you."

Meddling old bat. But no, not even he could fault her for worrying about a close friend.

"Thank you," Ceridwen said, turning to leave.

Loghain gave the old woman a terse nod, which she returned, and followed his lover (the word tasted strange in his thoughts, but she was, wasn't she) out of the gardens.


	4. Truth or Dare Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part. I don't know, is it possible to write Post-Landsmeet-Alistair angstless? I've tried to contain it, though. Oh, and nookie alert.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful mille libri. I'd be quite lost without her!

 

 **Truth or Dare - Chapter 4**

by owlet

 

After seeing Wynne, they went back inside in companionable silence. Ceridwen yawned suddenly.

"You know, Anora was right, I think I'll get a little rest."

"Do that. Enjoy it while you still can; you're going to have a lot of work to do with both Amaranthine and Gwaren."

"Don't remind me," Ceridwen groaned.

"Don't worry, we'll be expected to stay until the coronation, and that will be at least a week. Is this your room?"

"Yes. I must say though, yours is much nicer," she answered, opening the door.

"So it is," Loghain stated, following her inside and looking around. Her Mabari had been waiting for her and she fussed about him for a while, apologizing for leaving him alone for so long.

Her quarters were somewhat smaller than his and faced north. It was almost noon; the sun shone into the room full-force and would continue to do so for hours. His gaze returned to Ceridwen, who stood nearby clutching a shift to her chest, her expression half calculating, half apprehensive.

"Would you like to stay?"

It was obvious what that question had cost her; for such a persuasive creature, she was so painfully obvious at times. If he declined now, he might never get such an offer from her again. Not that he seriously considered leaving; he had quite enjoyed her company in his bed, and she grated on his nerves far less than he'd expected.

"Don't mind, if I do," he answered her.

She ducked behind her paravent and changed; it puzzled him a little that she didn't simply do it in front of him – he had already seen everything there was to see, after all, surely there was no need to be shy? Starting to remove his armour, he decided to simply ask her.

"Why are you hiding over there?"

She poked her head out and Loghain could see a deep blush on her cheeks.

"I don't know. I certainly should be used to men in heavy plate watching me undress, no? It's been like that ever since I was a child, after all."

"I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget that you're..."

"A mage? Loghain, I believe that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard you say."

Loghain shook his head when he put down the last part of his plate and moved on to the padding.

"When in doubt, joke, hm?"

Ceridwen came out from behind the folding-screen and shrugged.

"Handy trick I learned from Alistair. But it figures you'd see right through it."

He went over to her and pulled her into his arms.

"Of course. I've had thirty years of practice. Maric was the same; Cailan too. They found out that I wouldn't let them whine, so they started to joke."

Ceridwen pulled back a little and looked at him askance.

"You're starting to scare me. It was the same between Alistair and me, you know. I ... I knew he'd developed a crush on me, and I ... used that influence to manipulate him. I told myself that it was for his own good, but now I'm not so sure. I made him King, Loghain, and I still think that this is the best for Ferelden. But is it the best for him? Did I succeed as a loyal citizen only to completely fail as a friend? Will he ever forgive me for what I did to him?"

Loghain sighed and pulled her close again.

"I've been asking myself these questions for decades. If you find any answers let me know."

Her dog felt his mistress' distress and sat down on her feet, rubbing his head against her thigh. She reached down to pet him.

"Fluffy never felt the need to judge me; except when I tried to feed him Alistair's cooking."

The war-hound woofed in agreement.

"I've been meaning to ask; why did you name him Fluffy?"

"Because he is," Ceridwen replied with a shrug, "except when he's ripping my enemies apart. Besides, I think, he thinks, it's funny."

"Right," Loghain said doubtfully.

"It was a spur of the moment thing, but now that's his name and he answers to it. And I really want to get some sleep now."

She crawled into her bed and he followed, Fluffy jumped up and stretched out at their feet. Let the world take care of itself for a while, he thought, in this small, sunlit room everything was all right.

...

 

Ceridwen woke a few hours later feeling rested, warm, and _hungry_. She de-tangled herself from the man sleeping beside her, threw on one of her robes and twisted her hair up in a bun.

Fluffy raised his head questioningly and she clicked her tongue at him.

"C'mon, let's raid the kitchens," she whispered. Her voice was barely audible.

The hound whined at her doubtfully.

"We're heroes, of course they aren't going to tell us _no_."

"Trying to run again?," Loghain asked, his voice gravelly from sleep.

"No, I'm just hungry. Go back to sleep, I'll bring something to eat for you too."

"I'm quite capable of feeding myself," he grumbled, starting to rise.

"No doubt about that, I just don't feel like waiting until you've donned that armour of yours," Ceridwen said teasingly, "I'm only being practical. You like practical, right?"

Loghain snorted and sank back into the pillows.

"Far be it from me to argue with your superior reasoning, then."

Ceridwen laughed and left her room, Fluffy at her heels.

As she had told her dog, the kitchen staff didn't complain, instead they started to fuss over her as soon as she'd entered. It took only a few moments until she was happily munching leftovers and Fluffy's face was buried up to his ears in sheep-entrails (his favourite). When she had finished her quick meal, she assembled some food on a tray; a small bowl of porridge, a few strips of fried bacon, some white cheese, butter, bread, and a few cookies for variety's sake. Adding two apples on a whim, she grabbed the tray and made her way back to her room. Fluffy decided to give himself a walkie around the gardens.

Ceridwen balanced the tray awkwardly in one hand as she opened the door.

"Oh, is that Amaranthine sheep-cheese?"

Blast. She should have left the cheese; should have known it would summon Alistair.

"Having a snack? Can I..." the rest of the sentence was a strangled sound and Ceridwen knew that he had spotted (and identified) the man in her bed. Gritting her teeth, she went in and sat the tray down on her desk.

"Come in and close the door. The rest of the palace doesn't need to hear you yelling at me."

Ceridwen was surprised how calm she had managed to sound. Inside she was quivering. Archdemon, she thought, you've faced down an Archdemon, he hadn't. That had to count for something. What was the trick? Ah yes, keep the dragon off balance.

"I'm sorry, dear," she said to Loghain mimicking the endearment he had used before, "I had planned to wake you up in a somewhat different manner. But this disaster is unavoidable, I'm afraid, if perhaps containable."

Alistair just sputtered. Good. As long as she could keep him from yelling...

Loghain raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing.

Ceridwen turned back to Alistair.

"Before you say anything, you ambushed me. If you see something you don't want to see, it's your own bloody fault. Who I spend my time with is none of your business, I'm an adult and don't want or need your approval when it comes to my personal relationships."

"But ... but, he's..."

"A fellow Grey Warden? Someone who did not abandon me right before the final battle? Someone who stood with me and faced that beast down right by my side? Who would have sacrificed himself, had I allowed it?"

That had been a low blow, and she knew it. He flinched and it brought her no joy, only pain.

"I would have died for you too," Alistair said softly.

"I know, and I'm going to give you the same answer that I gave Loghain: I don't need you to die for me. I need you alive. Ferelden needs you alive. Dying is easy; don't think that I haven't thought of simply taking this easy way out and nobly sacrificing myself. But when have you ever seen me take the easy way out?"

"But he killed Duncan and Cailan!"

Ceridwen groaned and rolled her eyes.

"The _Darkspawn_ killed Duncan and Cailan. You were there. Loghain tried to warn the King. Tried to get him to stay behind the lines. And Duncan was reluctant to go. And he overestimated himself by blithely assuming that he would make it back. Don't you think that the last year would have been much easier, if he had taken just half an hour to actually explain things to us?"

"He couldn't have known..."

"A soldier always lives with the possibility of not seeing the next day. That is why a good soldier never leaves unfinished business," Loghain said quietly.

Ceridwen looked over at him. He sat on her bed in a careless pose, bare-chested and his lower body hidden from view by the covers. His face was impassive but not unfriendly. She shook her head. Between the two of them, Alistair didn't stand a chance.

"Fine. So he wasn't perfect. He made mistakes. But he was my friend and I miss him!"

"I miss him too. Now, is there anything else, or are we done here?"

Alistair rubbed his face and looked at her.

"I still want to gouge my eyes out with a spoon."

Ceridwen went over to the tray, took the spoon out of the porridge, licked it clean, and held it out to Alistair.

"Be my guest."

The answering laugh still sounded a little strangled, but it was a laugh. Maybe, just maybe they'd be all right, after all.

Alistair snatched the cheese from the tray and quickly left the room.

...

Loghain barely managed to get out of the way when Ceridwen flopped down on the bed beside him.

"That was awful," she mumbled, then noticed him staring. "What?"

"Nothing," he said. She had just reminded him why he admired her. He had seen her in action more than once (and been on the receiving end), and wondered where her persuasiveness came from. She genuinely cared, he guessed, maybe that was what drew people to her.

"Thank you for not interfering. Much."

"The boy is going to marry my daughter. She must see something worthwhile in him, or she wouldn't have let him that close so quickly. Maybe he will never be half the king that Maric was, but he won't be half the fool Cailan used to be. And I want Anora to be as happy as she can be; so why would I antagonize her future husband more than I already have?"

"Yes, if you kept hating each other's guts, it would tear her apart, if she came to care for him. And that is easier than one might think," Ceridwen said quietly.

"Oh? Are you saying that you have been tempted?"

He didn't know why that thought rankled him, but it did.

"Of course I have been tempted. He's quite handsome, he's kind and considerate and he gave me a rose he'd found in Lothering. He said that it reminded him of me, beauty amidst death and destruction, something to give hope. And I looked into those warm, hopeful eyes and told him that I didn't feel the same way."

"Why?"

"Because I already knew that he was Maric's son. I knew that he might be king someday. And I'm a mage. What would have come of it other than pain and heartbreak? But it would have been so easy to just give in and ... pretend. I told him I didn't feel the same because I didn't; I didn't let myself. We learn that pretty quickly, we mages. Relationships never last. We are not allowed to marry, if we bear children we have to give them up. There was this girl, a fellow apprentice, who took her own life when the Templars took away her baby. I vowed that day, that this would never be me."

He found the quiet conviction in her voice more disturbing than her tears would have been.

"You never told him that, did you?"

"No. He would have tried to convince me otherwise."

"But you told me."

"Because you _won't_ try to convince me otherwise. You don't ... want me to be something I'm not."

Loghain had the distinct feeling that she had wanted to say something else. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but the words, y _ou don't really care_ , rang in his ears, silently and unsaid.

But he did, as surprising as that was.

"That was then. Now you are the Commander of the Grey here in Ferelden, tomorrow you'll be named Teyrna of Gwaren. You are a hero, mage or not, and the people love you. You can do whatever you please. The shackles of your past don't hold you any more."

She blinked at him and suppressed a laugh.

"Out with it."

"You are right. Here we are, the Hero of the River Dane and the Hero of Ferelden – who could ever hope to stand against us," Ceridwen chortled.

His answering smile was devilish and slightly grim.

"Who indeed?"

"And I was being morose. I'm sorry. Can I make amends?"

He pretended to think that over.

"You can start by getting out of that robe."

She cheerfully obliged and he noted that she didn't hide behind the folding-screen this time. Maybe it was because he was already naked or because she had all but laid her soul bare only moments ago. He propped himself up on his elbow, and quite enjoyed how all that lovely, soft skin came into view. She was quite something; no wonder that boy had fallen in love with her. She had called it a crush, but Loghain knew better, it had been in his eyes. The same desolation that he had seen in his own whenever he had looked into a mirror.

But he didn't feel any kind of compassion for the boy; on the contrary – it filled him with vicious, savage joy that after all this time another beautiful, courageous woman chose him over a man that would be king – and this time he wouldn't send her away.

His hands buried themselves in her hair when she straddled him and bent down for a kiss. There was nothing hesitant in her touch this time, her fingers moved leisurely over his neck and shoulders, and she purred contentedly when he found a certain spot in the small of her back, before he cupped her nicely rounded derrière.

Her lips wandered to his neck, and he let his head fall back into the pillows when she nibbled at the skin over his jugular-vein.

"Good spot?"

He only hummed in response.

"I see ... maybe I can find others..."

Well, it wasn't as if he didn't remember a few things as well. His hands slid to her sides and then up to her breasts; she in turn pulled the covers from between them and pressed herself against him in a very provocative manner. She looked slightly feral poised above him, like a predatory animal about to strike, her hair falling around them and a wicked glint in her eye.

And then she sank down on him and it was heaven.

...

 

Ceridwen returned the tray to the kitchens with a silly grin on her face. She found it surprising (not to mention endearing), how supportive Loghain was being. She had found him fascinating from the moment he had joined, and she had pestered him with questions. He had thawed somewhat; maybe part of him was relieved that he was allowed to be simply Loghain again, not the Hero of the River Dane. When she had first really seen him fight she had been _awed_ (during the duel at the Landsmeet she had been too preoccupied with staying alive to appreciate his abilities), and then ... she had developed a crush on him. The possibility that he might return her interest had never occurred to her until he had kissed her on the terrace. And she never would have thought that he would be as gentle with her as he had been ever since (except that unfortunate incident in the hallway; but he had been sorry for that).

She didn't fool herself that he might love her; but she didn't really mind. After leaving the tower there had been no opportunity to share physical closeness with someone (well, Zevran had offered, but his insincere glibness repelled her), and she had missed touching someone and being touched.

When she came back to her room he was gone, very likely to get ready for the banquet. She rifled through her clothes and settled for her favourite set of mage-robes. After taking a bath provided by the servants she got dressed and did her hair.

Suddenly it occurred to her that she hadn't seen Leliana and Zevran the whole day, but they would undoubtedly have heard... oh, how they were going to tease her.

...

 

Anora sighed. Alistair had insisted on giving the Warden and her companions places of honour at the royal table, saying that if he had to get through another whole evening of being ogled, so should they.

"And you said that dwarf was a noble," she asked her Betrothed.

The dwarf in question was making a horrible mess of himself and his food while telling ribald jokes to a grimacing Arl Bryland, who had the misfortune of sitting next to him.

Alistair shook his head.

"Oghren is unique even by dwarven standards. His wife left him behind when she took her house to the Deep Roads. She was a paragon, you see. He never really got over that particular humiliation."

"What happened to her?"

Alistair swallowed another bite of roast duck and answered, "She went power-crazy and Ceridwen had to kill her. Afterwards she joked, that she hated Branka, because she made her wear heavy plate armour. But we could tell that Ceridwen somehow regretted that she had to take the life of someone who had once been a great woman. She's been carrying Branka's shield ever since."

"I see..." Anora said thoughtfully. Maybe that had stayed the Warden's hand at the Landsmeet; that she didn't want to kill someone who had once been a great man.

She looked over at her father. His eyes were narrowed at the Antivan elf, who in turn grinned cheekily at the Warden.

"Really, my beautiful flower, if you were that desperate for companionship, you could have asked me."

"Yes, I could have. I didn't," the Warden answered curty.

"Ouch."

The Orlesian bard laughed liltingly.

"You brought that on yourself, Zevran."

"He tried to get her into his bed the entire time," Alistair whispered into Anora's ear, "I really don't know why she kept him around."

The elf's sharp ears had caught that.

"Maybe because I'm very good at killing things," he said.

"But not good enough," Loghain said with a razor-thin smile.

"Yes, I failed at murdering our dear Warden for you, but I must say, I'm rather glad I did. Aren't you?"

"Quite," her father said drily.

"I bet after last night you are more than glad, huh?"

The dwarf was actually wriggling his eyebrows and Loghain bristled. Anora shook her head. If she'd have her way they would never sit at the same table again.

"Oghren, please behave yourself, you _are_ in the presence of royalty, you know," the Warden said decisively.

The dwarf belched and raised his goblet.

"Sorry, your Majesties."

Alistair buried his head in his hands.

"You were right, this was a bad idea. I'm sorry."

Anora put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"You'll learn."


	5. Truth or Dare Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different. I have no idea what Fluffy was thinking, but he went off and collected children again. Sigh.
> 
> To all those who reviewed: Thanks and Cyber-Cookies! I couldn't do it without your kind words and encouragement.
> 
> Many thanks to mille libri, the fastest and most patient beta in the world.

**Truth or Dare - Chapter 5**

by owlet

 

Ceridwen had decided to wear her dragon-scale armour with a tabard over it showing the Grey Warden Griffon. It seemed to be a more sensible choice than her mage-robes; the nobles of Ferelden were less likely to make a fuss over a Grey Warden becoming Teyrna of Gwaren than a mage. Of course they knew what she was, but sometimes everything was about appearances.

The Landsmeet-chamber was already filled when she entered it, the nobles were quite confused why the queen had asked them here. She was standing where Loghain had stood when Ceridwen had confronted him, Alistair at her side, and Ceridwen felt a similar sensation of dread settle about her.

She wished that Loghain had come with her, but they had agreed that his presence on this occasion would send all the wrong signals. Still...

She took a deep breath, slowly approached the Queen and her soon to be husband, and bowed respectfully before them.

Anora smiled at her and Alistair gave her a reassuring wink.

"My lords, my ladies," the queen addressed the assembly in a clear, carrying voice, "before you stands the Hero of Ferelden. This woman has given so much to save our beloved nation, and when I asked her what this nation could give to her, she asked for nothing in return. But I am sure you all will agree that such service cannot go unrewarded."

 _Or unpunished_ , Ceridwen thought wryly when the Queen paused for the approving murmurs.

"My future husband and I came to the agreement that the Grey Warden should be awarded with a position that reflects her importance to this nation, and this nation's faith in her. Kneel."

Ceridwen did so, and a moment later a heavy golden livery collar settled about her shoulders.

" As of this moment, I, Anora, ruling queen of Ferelden, name thee, Grey Warden Ceridwen Amell, Teyrna of Gwaren. Rise."

Most nobles were applauding enthusiastically, especially those whose lands had suffered under the Blight. Only Arl Eamon looked ready to spit nails. Ceridwen smiled thinly and decided that she would have a word with him later. She bowed to the queen again, who nodded gracefully at her.

"You honour me, your Majesty," she said.

A moment later she was surrounded by well-wishers.

Arl Wulff roughly shook her hand.

"My Arling lies in ruins, but thanks to you, we'll have a chance to rebuild. I can't think of anyone more deserving of this honour. You'll do well."

"I second that," a smiling Bann Teagan said, "you have done us all a great service; me more than most. You came to us in our darkest hour and saved everything I hold dear."

"Please. I only did my duty."

Teagan's handsome, angular face grew sombre.

"No, you went out of your way to save my family, all of my family. You didn't need to rescue Connor, you didn't need to cure my brother or go the difficult way instead of sacrificing the Arlessa. I for one won't forget that, you have my word."

Ceridwen heard the unsaid words: _Even if my brother seems to have forgotten_.

"Thank you, Bann Teagan. That does mean a lot to me."

Others joined in and it was quite a while before Ceridwen finally managed to slip away.

She found Arl Eamon in the library where he was looking out of a window, his posture stiff. He did not notice her approach as the dragon-scale armour made no sound and neither did her feet on the thick carpet.

"She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?," Ceridwen intoned one of the riddles she had encountered on the quest to save this man's life. He turned around, his face grim.

"What is the point of this riddle?"

"Just answer it."

"I don't know. Don't you have anything better to do, _Teyrna?_ It's disgraceful, that another commoner managed to gain such a position," he challenged her, spitting out her new title like something distasteful.

Ceridwen ignored his barb.

"Mercy. I speak of mercy. I had mercy on your son when he was possessed by a demon. You, on the other hand, had none when I asked you for it."

"That ... that man, that _maleficar_ , did not deserve my mercy!"

"Did your son deserve mine? Mercy is something to be granted, Arl Eamon, not deserved."

Arl Eamon growled under his breath.

"Is there a point to this?"

Ceridwen smiled at him.

"There is. I'm going to continue to show you mercy. I'm going to use the influence I now have for many things, but for one thing in particular: to change the laws regarding the mages. It's of no consequence to me, if your son will be able to inherit your title or if you will ever see him again. But I suppose it's of great consequence to you. I'm going to try and make sure that the mages are allowed familial ties. You don't deserve it, you sent my best friend to his death. But I will continue to have mercy on you and your family."

"I see. I suppose your lover put you up to that? He just can't admit defeat, can he?"

Ceridwen sighed. So the news had spread; no surprise there.

"Most certainly not. You should be happy, Alistair will be king, just as you wanted."

"With _her_ whispering into his ear?"

Ceridwen frowned.

"Anora is a good queen. She has always fulfilled her duties, and has done a lot that made this land flourish. Her only fault is that she's the daughter of a commoner. I see that this is an unforgivable crime in your eyes."

"She has not given Cailan an heir!"

"Hm. Should I not succeed in getting the laws changed, will you cast off your wife as you wanted Cailan to do? She is nearing fifty after all and has never born another child after Connor. Perhaps I should speak to her about that..."

Now she was just being cruel and she knew that. But she had to bring Arl Eamon into line, or he would destroy everything she and Anora had worked for.

"How do you..."

"Certainly you have noticed that Alistair is carrying Maric's sword? We went to Ostagar to retrieve the contents of Cailan's chest. Amongst other things I found some very interesting letters."

Arl Eamon deflated.

"What do you want from me?"

"Your support. And if you're not willing to give it in some matters, your silence. I'm done with being your puppet, Arl Eamon, and so is Alistair. He needs to become his own man; Anora and I will make sure he will."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. We want him to be a good king, a strong king. Ferelden is very weak at the moment and I'm sure our neighbours will try to take advantage of that. It's only natural. I may not be a politician, but I've studied a lot of history in the Tower. The names and places differ; but the patterns are always the same. If there is a vacuum of power, it is filled quickly, and now it will be filled either by us or by someone else."

"You are right, the patterns are the same. I've seen all of this happen before," Eamon said bitterly.

"And was it bad when Maric was king? Cailan simply had the soul of a bard or scholar. He wasn't suited to the role fate threw at him."

"And Alistair is?"

"Yes, once the damage you wrought on his personality when he was a child is undone; but we're working on that."

Eamon sank down heavily on a nearby couch.

"I have deeply regretted sending him away; the Maker knows how much. Very well, if that is truly what you intend, I will not stand in your way," he said with a sigh.

Ceridwen nodded and left him to his thoughts, returning to her chamber.

Looking into the mirror she wondered where the little mage with large, curious eyes had gone, and who that armoured woman was who stared back at her. She'd had to do a lot of growing up during the last year, and some part of her missed the days when she had simply slunk off to Irving's office and let him comfort her until everything was all right again. She had slain three dragons (even if one of them technically had been a witch), had led an army, had made her friend King, and to top it all off she was now bloody Teyrna of bloody Gwaren. Not that she couldn't understand Anora's reasoning in this. This position came with a lot of influence, and the Queen wanted that in the hands of someone she could trust.

Ceridwen took the livery collar off and studied it. Heavy it was, but delicately made, the links set with garnets and the Wyvern of Gwaren dangled in the middle, staring at her with ruby eyes.

There was a knock on her door and Ceridwen looked up, calling out to the person to enter.

It was the Queen.

"Am I disturbing you?"

"No, of course not, your Majesty."

Anora sighed.

"It went rather well, I think. Only Arl Eamon's reaction made me a little concerned."

"I've already taken care of him," Ceridwen sighed, "I half threatened, half cajoled him into supporting you and Alistair. Speaking of which; there is something I've meant to ask for."

"Yes," the Queen said cautiously.

"Don't be too hard on him. Be patient, be gentle, and he will adjust well. Please make sure he doesn't break like Cailan. Don't let anyone tear at him."

Anora looked at her curiously.

"What makes you think Cailan broke?"

"I met a man in the Bannorn who gave me directions to where the key to Cailan's chest was. He said that the King knew that there would be no victory at Ostagar. But still he took his place within the first rows. To put it bluntly, he committed suicide."

Anora's eyes grew wide.

"But why would he do that? He was always so..."

"Mirthful? Some of the saddest souls live behind laughing faces. Everyone had such high expectations of him, and he had the feeling that he was insufficient. Eamon and Loghain tried to pull him in different directions and I think he felt inferior to you too. Maybe that was why he ... strayed, even though he loved you enough to hold out against Arl Eamon's demand to take another queen."

"That ... makes sense, I guess. But he wouldn't have held out much longer. Father told me what you found in his chest."

"Exactly. And he didn't want to send you away, he knew that he couldn't be a great king like those in the legends. So I suppose he thought he should at least die like one. I've seen it in his eyes, and please believe me when I say that I know what to look for. I've seen it in your father's eyes in the night before the final battle and I've seen it in Alistair's, too, time and again. We need to keep him alive; and to achieve that, we need to make him believe in himself. He is my friend and I owe him for doing him the disfavour of making him king. You wished to grant me a boon; well, this is it."

Anora sank down in a chair.

"I've ... always known, I suppose. Yes, I think you're right. Very well, I promise to do my best."

"Thank you."

Anora smiled wryly.

"I think my father is rubbing off on you."

Ceridwen snorted inelegantly and blushed.

"I don't know. You should have seen some of the things I had to do during my journeys. I hate bloodshed. I love peace and harmony. I want everybody to be happy. So somewhere along the line I learned to talk people into submission. And believe me, if I say that standing in an old temple, surrounded by a pack of snarling werewolves, while trying to reason with a slightly crazy, immensely powerful Dalish Keeper bent on revenge, is quite inspiring."

"I bet. So what's your next plan?"

"Establish Amaranthine as a base of operations for the Wardens, clean up the rest of the Darkspawn. Have a look at Gwaren, I suppose. And am I the only one who thinks the Chantry is too powerful? Not that I want them gone, but some of the restrictions placed on mages are just silly. They have the phylacteries, why lock us all up in a tower? They insist that young mages need to be educated in the Circle. I happen to agree. But why never let them see their families? Why cut off all their ties with the outside world? They only learn to care only for themselves and to hate the Chantry. The result are people like Uldred and Jowan. I find that not desirable."

"Neither do I. A mage who is in some way part of the society is more likely to be loyal to Ferelden," the Queen said thoughtfully.

"Exactly. It is essentially the same with the elves, of course."

"Of course. Are you trying to talk me into submission now?"

Ceridwen mock-gasped.

"Your Majesty, I would never dare!"

They both started to laugh.

...

 

"Where are you headed?"

Ceridwen was looking much like she had on their travels; in armour, the Spellweaver and Branka's shield strapped to her back.

"The docks," Ceridwen answered, scratching her war-hound's ears.

"The docks aren't the nicest part of Denerim," Loghain stated with a frown. Why would she want to go there?

"I know," Ceridwen said, "but I've never seen the sea. I've never had the time to go; but now..."

Ah yes, of course. As a mage she had never left the Tower, and as a Grey Warden she had only seen the places her duty took her to.

"And Fluffy the Fearless Fur-ball will protect me," she continued.

"Still, you are a lone woman; that is asking for trouble, even if you'd be able to handle it."

Ceridwen sighed.

"I know. Why don't you come along? You could scare away the troublemakers and tell me about the sea. It might be fun. When was the last time you did something just for fun?"

"Not for quite some time," Loghain answered with a rueful chuckle.

So they went through the bustling streets of Denerim, trying to look inconspicuous, watching the inhabitants clean up and rebuild what the Darkspawn had destroyed. The merchants were back in the markets and children were in the street, playing.

Fluffy yapped happily and ran off.

"Oh no, not again," Ceridwen muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"Fluffy. If you ever doubted his name, just watch this."

Loghain's eyes followed the war-hound to a group of children nearby. They were cautious for a minute, but when they saw that he was a very friendly dog, they invited him to their game. A tall girl obviously was the leader.

"Did you hear the bard yesterday, singing about the end of the Blight? She said, the Hero of Ferelden has a dog like this! Now we can do it properly," she crowed.

Fluffy glanced over but seeing that his companions were content to watch, he turned his attention back to the children. The roles were distributed quickly by the tall girl (who would be the Hero, obviously) and they went to fight the Archdemon, a scorched, derelict wagon nobody had the time to clear away yet.

Loghain saw the slightly mortified expression on Ceridwen's face and felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"You'll get used to it," he murmured into her ear.

"Really? Did you?"

"I just might, because now nobody really wants my part in the game. Just look at the sullen little fellow who ended up as me."

The child, a small, dark haired boy of about eight, didn't look happy at all.

Ceridwen laughed.

"But he's doing your famous scowl so well!"

After a very valiant fight the children had exhausted themselves. They were a raggedy lot, and Loghain's practised eye noted prominent bones and dull hair. Orphans then, or the children of very poor people. He had looked like that himself during the time he spent as an outlaw with his father.

He blinked. No, this was not the time to remember such things.

Fluffy got up from the floor where he'd lain panting and looked at the children to follow him.

"Please tell me he's not bringing them over."

Ceridwen shrugged.

"That's what he always does. He picks up poor children and brings them to me. He loves children, and he's usually a very good judge of character."

"Is he?"

"Well, he seems to like you a lot, so, yes."

"Did it ever occur to you that this may not be the best recommendation?"

The children cautiously made their way over to them and Loghain tried not to scowl, setting his face in an impassive mask instead. If she wanted to meet them, why not. It wasn't as if they were in a hurry.

"So, he's yours then," the tall girl addressed Ceridwen, shooting suspicious glances at Loghain.

"Yes, that's my dog. Had fun playing?"

The girl grinned.

"Yes! We were playing the Hero of Ferelden and the Archdemon."

Fluffy whined at Ceridwen, licking his muzzle.

"Oh please. Don't tell me you're hungry again."

Fluffy gave another plaintive whine.

At the mention of food the children's faces got wistful as well. Loghain sighed. He saw himself as something of a heartless bastard, but even he couldn't walk away from a gaggle of hungry children looking at him with soulful eyes.

"If I remember correctly there's an inn just around the corner. Is it open?"

"Yes, Ser, it is," the tall girl answered.

Loghain's face softened a little at her respectful answer. She had a regal air about her and seemed to be a natural leader. Two of the boys were at least as old as she, but they let her do the talking and looked to her for guidance.

"So why don't we all go there and have some lunch, hm?"

The children whooped with joy and ran off with Fluffy. Offering some coin would have probably done more harm than good, there were always greedy eyes watching; the children wouldn't have made it very far until some unscrupulous soul decided to take it from them.

Ceridwen's face beamed like the sun when they followed at a more leisurely pace.

"You know, the girl reminds me of Anora."

Loghain sighed.

"Yes, she does, doesn't she?"

They entered the inn and chose a table that would sit them all, two adults, a dog, and five children. The tall girl, two older boys, and the little one who was still scowling; the last one was a delicate elven girl.

Ceridwen ordered some food and honey water for them all and asked the children for their names as soon as she was done.

"I'm Keira," the tall girl said, "those two are Corvin and Tarin; they're brothers. She's Shirei from the Alienage. And that's Maric. He gets teased a lot about his name."

Her voice carried a warning. _Don't tease him about his name._

"I see. Well, my companion is Loghain and I'm Ceridwen. The dog is Fluffy."

The children blinked.

"Is that really the truth? You are not lying," Keira asked cautiously.

"No, they're not," Maric said sullenly, "I recognize him. My father worked at the royal stables, so I know what Teyrn Loghain looks like. This is him, believe me."

There was a story there, Loghain assumed, and not a happy one.

"I'm not a Teyrn any more, boy. I simply go by my name now."

"Are you really a mage?" the elven girl, Shirei, asked Ceridwen with her soft, musical voice.

"Yes, I'm a mage and grew up in the Circle Tower."

"And did you really slay the Archdemon? What did it look like?"

Ceridwen laughed.

"It was really big and very ugly. Mostly purple. Spines and bones sticking out everywhere. Baleful white eyes. I'm sorry, I'm not a bard."

"Were you scared?"

"Yes, yes I was. I thought it was going to eat me in one single gulp, and that would be the end of it."

That made the children laugh, even Maric.

The serving maid brought heaps of food and some bones for Fluffy. Loghain had seen the dog eat when he was hungry, and this leisurely gnawing wasn't it. Clever, clever beast, he thought with a grin. The children ate like they were starved, and they probably were.

"What about your families?" he asked.

Keira gave an eloquent shrug.

"Corvin and Tarin are the sons of a baker nearby, he gives us something to eat sometimes. The rest of us are orphans. We get by doing small tasks, carrying messages and the like."

"Why don't you go to the Chantry? Shouldn't the sisters be helping you?"

Keira frowned.

"Maybe. But they didn't want to help Shirei. Because she's an elf."

"That isn't the only reason, is it?" Ceridwen asked quietly. "I can tell."

"You can't take her to the Templars, they're mean," Keira whispered fiercely.

Loghain raised an eyebrow at Ceridwen.

"I wasn't going to. I just know a very nice old lady who happens to be a Senior Enchanter. You could ask her for advice," she told the child.

"Why would we trust you?" Maric asked.

"I'm a mage myself. Don't you think I know what it's like? People being afraid of you and hating you because you might be dangerous? You are born with powers you never wanted to have, and if you don't learn to harness them they might turn on you or someone innocent. And life at the Circle isn't all that bad. You get good food, your own bed, and you can learn many things, read many interesting books. And nobody will look down on you because you're an elf."

"But ... but my friends..."

"You could write. They may not be allowed to visit, but you could write. There's no law against that."

Keira and Shirei mulled over what Ceridwen had said.

"Fine. If you take her to see this Senior Enchanter, I want to come with her."

"I think that's a good idea," Loghain said. This girl had potential, and he would hate to see it wasted. More than ten years ago he had picked up a gangly, fierce girl like her in the Bannorn, and she had become the Commander of Maric's Shield, the elite of Ferelden's armies. He looked down at Fluffy again. Clever, clever dog indeed.

"I want to come, too. I'm not leaving Shirei alone," Maric said earnestly.

"Your loyalty is commendable. By all means, accompany your friend."

There was something about the boy. He didn't remember him or his father, there were quite a few stable hands working at the palace, and he hadn't been much interested in people.

They had finished their meal and Ceridwen clapped her hands.

"No time like the present," she said, "let's go."

They paid for the meal and herded the children out. The two older boys said their good-byes and trundled off. Ceridwen and Loghain made their way back to the palace surrounded by three children and one dog.

He had expected something like this to happen. But what else could they do? If they didn't take this situation in hand, the people would become aware of the mage-child's nature and would send the Templars after her. Her friends would probably get hurt trying to defend her. Better she went willingly. And as much as he disliked the old crone, Wynne would be good for the child.

Ceridwen glanced at him and shrugged with an embarrassed smile. Ah well, Loghain thought, there would be other times to see the sea.


	6. Truth or Dare Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes (Behemoth, I apologize): So sorry for the long delay, I got distracted by the DA kink-meme... but it helped me to sort out the sexual experience and proclivities of my favourite couple. As far as we know, Loghain had sex with only two women in his life; one was a noble maiden and the other the daughter of a cabinet maker (Celia, his late wife).
> 
> Rowan didn't come across as particularly kinky in TST, and he managed to have only one child with Celia, even though he supposedly never left Gwaren for years. I choose to interpret this as no (or not much) action between the sheets after Anora. So Ceridwen, the mage, is probably more experienced than he is, especially concerning the more exotic bedroom arts. It seems like mages mostly have sex with other mages, so it isn't far-fetched, I think, to assume that, over the centuries, they have developed their very own culture and traditions when it comes to erotic things. And what do cooped-up, horny teenagers do? They shag, pure and simple; and since mages seem to be rather bright teenagers, it is only logical that they'd apply their intelligence and creativity to sex as well. So, I think Ceridwen would possess the knowledge, and Loghain the aptitude and willingness to learn, since he comes across as intelligent and adaptable in the game. And there is of course his ability to improvise, to think outside of the box and his attention to detail – all of those make him a great general, and, imo, a potentially great lover as well ;o)
> 
> The sex in this chapter: In medieval times oral sex was quite uncommon, something that was viewed as degrading and dirty – and if you recall the lower standards of hygiene back then, it's hardly surprising. For example, sucking a man off was more of an issue than letting him take you anally, and cunnilingus wasn't all that common either. So, since DA is set in a quasi medieval world, I'm going with that – at least on Loghain's side. Ceridwen – well, it is my firm believe that magic can be used for more things than healing or blasting people.
> 
> My thanks to Lilith Morgana for graciously allowing me to use the name Shirei that I unconsciously nicked from her in the last chapter – which I am still kinda embarrassed about.
> 
>  
> 
> I deeply bow to my wonderful beta, mille libri, because she sacrificed precious vacation time to look over this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> So, can you tell me which book Wynne is reading? It's a classic I enjoyed very much.

**Truth or Dare - Chapter 6**

by owlet

 

The palace library was a wonderful place. The books in the Circle Tower were mostly about magic; but here anything could be found, from volumes about the history of the Anderfels to romance novels that Wynne had a secret weakness for. Fate had granted her a little reprieve from duty and great causes, so she grasped the opportunity to indulge in her one guilty pleasure.

She had found a book about a war-torn country battling to preserve its freedom, a pair of lovers caught up in the events. He was a young knight in the king's army, and she was the free-spirited child of a noble family. The knight had a best friend, who was secretly in love with the heroine, but out of obligation and loyalty he never made his feelings known. It was a very long novel but very well written; she was quite caught up in it.

"Wynne, sorry to disturb you, but do you have a moment?"

The mage looked up from her book. Ceridwen stood in front of her, accompanied by Loghain, the dog, and ... three children? What in the Maker's name was that about?

"There's someone we'd like you to meet," Ceridwen said, her arm wrapped protectively around the shoulders of an elven girl with dark eyes and silvery blonde hair.

"Of course. What is your name, child?"

"I'm Shirei," the girl shyly answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hello, Shirei. My name is Wynne. I'm a mage of the Circle."

Shirei fidgeted a little.

"I know, Warden Ceridwen told me about you. She said you were nice."

A mage child? Yes, Wynne could feel the power in her. The other children were the usual sort, no hum of magic in them. They were watchful; protective friends, perhaps?

"Are these your friends?"

"Yes, Keira and Maric. They wanted to come with me."

Ah, so Ceridwen had found her and wanted to bring her to the Circle before the Templars got a hold of her. But what was Loghain's part in this? Wynne didn't trust him; she was unable to forget the part he had played in the near obliteration of the Circle – even though she had to admit that it wasn't his fault that Uldred had turned to Blood-Magic and gone mad.

"Why don't we all sit down? Come, there's enough space for you and your friends on the couch; the Wardens can get some chairs."

Silently the children and grown-ups did as she had requested.

She turned to Shirei, who had settled down right next to her. A good sign.

"I suppose you are aware that you are ... special."

"Yes, I know I'm a mage. But I'm so scared of the Templars. The people in the Chantry always say that magic is ... sinful."

Poor child. She couldn't be older than ten, and she was already afraid of the judgement the Chantry so blithely passed on those who were born with magic.

"Please don't give her to the Templars, we don't want anything bad happening to her," the other girl, Keira, said earnestly.

"I won't," Wynne said, "but you must be aware that she needs to go to the Circle to learn."

"Yes, I know. Warden Ceridwen said that I need to learn how to control my magic, or I might hurt somebody," Shirei said quietly.

Wynne nodded.

"Yes, that is true. I will be leaving for the Circle-Tower shortly. If you promise to come with me, I'll keep your secret. The Templars will not get you."

Shirei nodded and cast a pleading look into Ceridwen's direction.

"Don't worry, I'll be coming too. I have business in the Tower as well."

"Until then we will find the three of you a place in the servant's quarters where you can stay," Loghain added in a low, gentle tone. "As long as you stay out of trouble."

Wynne shot him a surprised look which he answered with a sneer.

"Yes, why don't we get you settled? We can work out the details later," Ceridwen said with a gentle smile.

The children nodded sagely and followed her and Loghain out.

...

 

"I'm quite surprised that you are so ready to deliver that child to the Circle, after everything you've told me."

Ceridwen looked up from her plate. After settling the children in their respective rooms, they had decided to share a second lunch in Loghain's quarters. He still hadn't adjusted to his increased appetite and found the sheer amount of food he now needed obscene; something that amused Ceridwen to no end. She took another bite of soft white bread and cheese before responding.

"What would the alternative be? The Templars removing her forcefully from everything she has known; or worse, branding her an apostate and killing her? Or perhaps she will lose control of her powers someday while being attacked; would you like her to be killed by an angry mob? The Maker knows that life in the Circle Tower is far from ideal. But thanks to the doctrines of the Chantry it is the only real chance she's got."

Loghain leant back in his chair.

"Ah yes, the Chantry. You're not too fond of them, are you?"

"No. Are you?" Ceridwen muttered darkly.

"Certainly not. I haven't forgotten the role they played in the subjugation of Ferelden. Soon after Maric won his first real victory, they started rumours about him consorting with demons. They accused him of every vile act they could think of to hinder our efforts. No, there isn't much that I can say in favour of them."

Ceridwen blinked.

"Oh. I hadn't known that."

"It's not very surprising that this little fact wouldn't make it into the history books," Loghain said with a scowl.

"I guess not. But we have to be careful. Ferelden has just seen a Blight, it doesn't need an Exalted March next. Have they set a date for the coronation?"

Loghain stood and stretched. They had shed their respective armours and had cleaned up before their meal, and she was glad they had. Heavy plate was not comfortable (she had only worn it once in the gauntlet leading to the Anvil of the Void), and she really couldn't imagine how Loghain had been able to lug the damn thing around every single day for almost thirty years.

"You haven't heard? It was announced this morning. In three days Ferelden will have a new king. The royal marriage will be two months later."

"Oh? That timing seems a little strange."

"Shows what they teach you in that blasted Tower of yours. The coronation needs to be soon because Ferelden needs a king. And the wedding is being postponed until after the seeding days. The Arls and Banns need to be in their own territories to supervise the proceedings. There is a lot of reorganizing to be done – census must be taken and the land must be redistributed among the surviving farmers. We need a good harvest badly; it is actually quite fortuitous that the Blight was dealt with early in the year. What?"

"Your roots are showing. I think that's sweet. I've never seen you talk so animatedly about anything else before."

"Still surprised that I'm human," he grumbled, turning away from her.

Ceridwen got up too and approached, wrapping her arms around him from behind, resting her head against his shoulders.

"That's not true. I'm just surprised whenever you reveal a new side of your personality to me. Getting you to open up was like pulling teeth when we were still on the road."

He grumbled in return, and Ceridwen hugged him closer.

"Kiss me?"

He turned around and obliged.

"Hm, I seem to have developed an appetite for something else too," Ceridwen murmured, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him with her as she backed up in direction of his bed.

"Minx," he whispered against her lips.

"As if you didn't know that before," she gibed gently in return, quoting something he had said to her in their first night together.

He let her pull him on top of her as she lay down.

"I didn't, actually. You always seemed so pure, so unimpeachable."

Her hands slipped under his shirt, and he, taking the hint, pulled it over his head.

"Do you want to know how impure and impeachable I can be?"

He raised an eyebrow and grinned at her.

"I don't know; do I?"

She rolled him over so she was on top and kissed him aggressively, her hands busy with the laces at the front of his breeches. She needed to do this now, before she lost her nerve. Alistair had been horrified at the idea, and Ceridwen was a little concerned she'd lose Loghain's respect when she did this. But it had been ages, and she had so enjoyed it with her occasional lovers in the Circle Tower; especially when they returned the favour...

Finally she could wrap her hand around his hardening member and she scooted down until she was at face-level with it. She rubbed him, enjoying how the delicate, soft skin slid over his now firm length.

"Ceridwen, what are you ... oh, Maker," he groaned as she gave him an experimental lick.

The taste wasn't unpleasant, and she liked his musky scent. She licked him again, this time from root to head and was rewarded with a drop of pre-cum, before wrapping her lips around him and sucking gently. Loghain's fingers tangled in her hair, and Ceridwen chose to interpret this as encouragement.

He started to pant as she moved her head rhythmically up and down, and she enjoyed having him completely spellbound like that – and without magic. He bucked helplessly when she started to trace the veins with her tongue, and Ceridwen was glad she still had one hand wrapped firmly around the base of his erection, limiting how far he could push into her mouth.

The muscles in his thighs bunched and trembled with tension and his hand in her hair twitched, as if he was trying not to grab hold of her long, reddish tresses.

Ceridwen used her free hand to cup his balls and roll them a little; briefly thinking about adding a little hum of magic – but no, another time, perhaps – he still seemed to be a little leery where the arcane arts were concerned. Soon she felt them draw up and sucked in time with the spurts of semen as he spent himself in her mouth. She swallowed quickly and gave him a last, loving lick before shimmying back up.

Loghain wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.

"That was incredible ... say, would you let me do that to you too? I've always wanted to try it, but Celia never let me..."

Ceridwen grinned delightedly. She had underestimated him. Again.

"Of course, be my guest."

He smiled at her sheepishly.

"You'll have to direct me, I'm afraid."

"Oh, no problem. You've so thoughtfully provided me with a handy set of reins," she chortled and tugged at one of his braids.

He laughed, swatted at her bottom and they changed position, getting rid of her shift and underwear in the process. Ceridwen's nipples were rock hard and she knew that she was wet, having a cock in her mouth never failed to arouse her. She let her head sink into the pillow with a sigh as he gently licked and sucked her nipples and trailed a wet trail of kisses down her body until he had reached her vulva.

"I've been meaning to ask you ... Why do you keep yourself bare? And how do you do it, there is no stubble, so I guess, you don't shave."

Ceridwen tried to collect her thoughts for an answer.

"Habit, I suppose. It's considered a matter of courtesy among us not to confront your lover with pubes that are as bushy as the Brecilian Forest. And we use a magical ointment. The recipe has been handed down among the apprentices for generations."

He hummed thoughtfully against the sensitive skin on the inside of her right thigh.

"So I presume, you'd like me to do the same? Or perhaps you'd like to help me, since I'm unfamiliar with the procedure?"

The thought made her breath hitch.

"Certainly. Always glad to be of service..."

"Hm... are you? I wonder..."

Ceridwen twitched as his tongue touched her outer lips and explored those for a while before slipping between them. She let him taste her folds for a moment before she grabbed a braid and guided him to the little nub that gave her the most pleasure. He took the hint and flicked it with his tongue, softly, tentatively, just right. She moaned and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Yes, yes, like that. Please don't stop..."

He did just that, of course, damn him.

"Or else?"

"Or else," she growled.

He chuckled and applied himself to the task again.

Ceridwen's head fell back into the pillows and she closed her eyes. If somebody had told her a few months ago that she would one day lay in Loghain Mac Tir's bed at the royal palace, his head between her legs, his tongue licking her to orgasm... she would have had Wynne check them for a head-injury.

Oh, now he was getting creative... he tried little sucks and nibbles, took clues from her reactions and adjusted his technique accordingly. Ceridwen let go of the braid and threaded her fingers through his hair. It wouldn't take much longer now...

Her hips bucked against his mouth as she came with a shout.

Loghain wiped his mouth with a sheet and moved up to kiss her.

"Hmmm ... that was quite delicious, my dear. I certainly wouldn't mind having that particular dessert time and again," he purred.

"No objections here," Ceridwen panted, trying to catch her breath.

 


	7. Truth or Dare Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifth rewrite... the kiddies didn't want to get parted from each other yet. And yes, the blanket I described exists – I'm going to make one for myself too, I will use rabbit-fur though. Those things are wonderfully warm and feel heavenly against your skin. And before you start to bitch at me for using real fur: I eat rabbits; why would I throw away their skin?
> 
> Oh yes, for some reason, if you sleep naked under furs, it's actually warmer, than if you wear pyjamas or a nightshirt. Weird, but true.
> 
> mille libri, my beta, my saviour, all hail to mille libri :D

**Truth or Dare - Chapter 7**

by owlet

 

The tall spire of Fort Drakon was getting smaller and smaller in the distance. Good riddance, Ceridwen had many memories of that place and none of them pleasant.

It was good to be on the road again. Ceridwen smiled at the thought; she never would have thought she'd feel that way. But nature was waking up all around them, reminders of the winter and the Blight vanishing from the landscape. They were walking, since neither Ceridwen nor Wynne knew how to ride; they did have two ponies and a little cart though, so they wouldn't need to carry all their gear. The children climbed into it too when they were tired of walking.

Shirei was skipping ahead, marvelling at every new plant she discovered, bringing a sample to Wynne, who indulged the girl and told her the names and properties of each one. Tall, lanky Keira was playing fetch with Fluffy as they went, little Maric was sitting in the cart and sullenly stared into the distance, shooting furtive glances at Loghain time and again.

Neither Ceridwen nor Loghain wore their usual armours, they had noticed quickly that they were simply too recognizable, and that they'd never get anywhere any time soon with people stopping them to congratulate and thank them. They had quickly shed tell-tale dragonscale and silverite. She put on simple clothes, and Loghain now wore a visibly old but well-cared for set of black leather armour. His father had made it for him, and he had worn it during the rebellion, he had told Ceridwen when she had asked, and he had rolled his eyes and snorted when she had waggled her eyebrows telling him that he cut a quite dashing figure in it.

"Hello, hello! What do we have here?"

Within moments they were surrounded by five scruffy looking men in cheap armour, carrying swords and bows.

Fluffy growled menacingly and Ceridwen sighed.

"I wish they'd think of something new," she mumbled, and turned to the children. "Come here and stay close to the cart. Keira, mind the ponies so they won't bolt."

The leader of the band took a step closer.

"There's no need to be afraid – we just want to have a look at what you have in that wagon."

"Gentlemen, you have no idea who you're dealing with," Ceridwen said, smiling thinly.

"Should we care?"

At a flick of her wrist a flame danced around her hand.

"You should. You don't want to mess with two mages, don't you?"

She glanced at Wynne, who just stood there, smiling serenely, an unearthly blue glow surrounding her.

"Mages," one of the bandits yelped, "They will turn us into toads!"

"F...fine," the leader stammered, "we'll let you go. This time."

They vanished into the woods as quickly as they had appeared.

"Let's go," Ceridwen said lightly.

"But... but, you could have taken them," Keira said, looking confused.

"Girl, every fight may be a matter of life and death. Always think before you enter one, it might be your last. They don't need to be very skilled; it's enough if they get lucky just once. Believe me, the best fights are those you can avoid," Loghain answered with a stern frown.

"Oh yes, we all know how good you are at avoiding battles," Wynne said blithely, and Ceridwen didn't need to look at Loghain to see that he was angry. The growl made that plain enough.

"Wynne," she said rather sharply. "We've been over this numerous times. Squabbling over the past doesn't solve anything. Let's go."

The elder mage huffed and started walking, Keira led the ponies with a thoughtful look on her face.

They didn't encounter further trouble for the rest of the day and made camp in the late afternoon in a little clearing in the woods. Ceridwen helped Wynne erect the tents, a big one for the healer and the children and a smaller one for Loghain and herself, before walking off to find some firewood. Loghain shouldered his bow and went hunting, taking Keira and Fluffy with him. Wynne started a fire with the first armful of dry wood that Ceridwen brought; the younger mage went back into the wood to find more.

She was walking through the trees at some distance from the camp, she could barely make out the fire in the growing darkness, when suddenly an arm wrapped around her from behind and a hand covered her mouth.

"Now, what do we have here?"

Ceridwen relaxed when she recognized the voice and smiled against the leather of Loghain's glove. He released his grip on her face but kept her pressed against him.

"What do you want?" she asked in a meek voice, getting into the game.

"Hm... a few sovereigns and I'll be on my way."

"I don't have any money..."

"Then you'll have to pay with your life, I'm afraid."

Ceridwen wriggled against him a little.

"And I can't offer you something else instead?"

"Hm... I might be persuaded..."

He turned her around, pushing her up against a tree.

"Lift your skirts."

Ceridwen bit her lip in pretended shame and did as he had asked.

Loghain detached the codpiece of his armour, freed his erection, and hoisted her up so her legs wrapped around his waist, pushed her smalls aside and caressed her.

"So accommodating," he grinned and entered her.

Ceridwen wasn't very wet yet, so she felt a little discomfort at his sudden intrusion, but the slight pain added to her excitement.

"Please be careful," she breathed with a flutter of her lashes.

"This is for my enjoyment, not for yours, wench," Loghain growled and claimed her lips in a fierce kiss as he started to thrust.

Ceridwen closed her eyes, and moaned into his mouth. This felt incredible, and there was a piece of his armour rubbing her exactly right... It didn't take long before they both had reached their climax.

"That was fun," she giggled when he let her down again.

"Hm..." he hummed against her throat and kissed her gently and languidly this time. "Yes, it was. Now let's go back, the others will wonder where we are."

Loghain gathered up the firewood that had fallen from Ceridwen's arms, and they made their way back to the camp.

Wynne was teaching the children how to pluck the pheasants Loghain and Keira had brought, while preparing a filling of bread, wine and dried fruit. Keira methodically removed feathers, Shirei did so reluctantly with an expression of discomfort on her face, Maric plucked his bird slowly and sullenly like he did everything.

Ceridwen and Loghain stood at the edge of camp for a while, quietly observing the scenery.

"He resembles you so much, it's uncanny," she said quietly.

Loghain scoffed at the notion.

"I'll have you know that I was a very happy, easygoing child. I was nothing like him. But then the Orlesians decided to heavily tax freeholders."

Ceridwen nodded.

"Yes. But maybe he used to be a happy, easygoing child too, before whatever happened to him happened. Maybe I should try to find out what it was."

Loghain nodded.

"Maybe. Now come. There is a pheasant left for you to pluck."

Ceridwen groaned but joined the others in getting the birds naked. It was spring, so they weren't exactly fat, but they would make a nice evening meal, and the leftovers would be nice breakfast or snacks in between. When the birds were plucked, Ceridwen cleaned and boned them like Morrigan had taught her. She had been prickly, rude and arrogant most of the time – but she was a wonderful cook; and she had gladly taught Ceridwen everything she knew, because it meant that she would have to do the work herself less often. As she seasoned and filled the pheasants with the mix Wynne had created, Ceridwen found herself missing her former companion. Morrigan hadn't been easy to get along with, but after some time they had formed a bond. The witch didn't follow the rules of society and politeness because she didn't know them, Ceridwen had realized, and how could she, as isolated as she'd been thanks to her mother. In some things her jaded, sarcastic friend had been heart-wrenchingly innocent.

Fluffy munched happily on the bones Ceridwen had thrown him, and Maric and Shirei had discovered that the soft plumes were fun to play with. Loghain had put the birds on a spit and turned them occasionally as they roasted over the fire. He had taken off his armour and cleaned and oiled it, showing Keira what to do, taught her how to take care of one's equipment. The lanky girl sat next to him and listened carefully. Wynne called Shirei over to where she had settled on a log and gently instructed her in how to concentrate and harness her energies – Ceridwen remembered these first lessons with a smile. She had been quite little when the Templars had brought her to the tower, and it had been Irving himself who had taken care of her these first weeks when she had been disoriented and scared by the unfamiliar surroundings. That had been before he had become the First Enchanter, but even after he had taken that position, she had been his favourite, his protégé.

That left Maric all alone, sitting nearby, staring glumly into the fire. Ceridwen went to him and sat down.

"Are you sad?"

Maric shrugged.

"Maric, you can tell me. What is it?" Ceridwen asked, letting her voice become low and gentle, a tone she knew not many could withstand.

"You said that I can't visit Shirei in the tower, but that I could write her letters."

"Yes, that would be possible."

"I don't know how to write," the boy said, his voice tremulous.

Ceridwen sighed and shook her head. She had seen much in her travels, but it surprised her time and again how ignorant she still was of the world she now lived in. All children at the Circle learned how to read and write; it had never occurred to her that there would be those like Maric, who were illiterate.

"I can teach you. We'll pick up a wax-tablet and a stylus for you in the next village or town we come through, and you'll learn how to write letters in no time."

"Really?" the boy asked doubtfully.

"Of course. You'll see."

Maric nodded gravely, but his face lightened up some.

She stood and led Maric to the fire to keep her company as she took over to take care of the food. Loghain and Keira went off to practise sword-fighting, and Ceridwen turned the spit and smiled as she heard the sounds of clashing swords and Loghain's short commands from the distance. He was very good at what he did, was a strict taskmaster but a very patient one, who was content to let the student set the pace, as long as said student applied themselves and performed to the best of their abilities. She herself had profited immensely from sparring with him, even if she had been bruised by more than one deliberate hit when her thoughts had wandered. It had been somewhat difficult to stay focussed when he had stood there, out of his armour, sometimes even _bare-chested_...

Ceridwen felt her face grow warm at the memory. She was pretty certain now that it had been deliberate, that he had somehow known what she always did afterwards in her tent. Good thing every apprentice at the tower learned pretty quickly how to masturbate without making a single sound, without even breathing too fast or too loudly.

...

 

Loghain went to the tent he shared with Ceridwen and put back his sword and shield, as well as a shorter blade he had picked up in Denerim the day before. It was a good sword, nothing like the heavily enchanted blade that he carried, but a well-made weapon for a beginner, well balanced and not too heavy. Ceridwen had taken over the turning of the birds, so he had been free to give Keira her first lesson. He would teach her like his father had taught him, like he had taught Cauthrien.

Cauthrien. He hoped she was well.

Keira had been quick to pick up on the first few moves he'd shown her; she had good reflexes and was quite strong for a girl her age. And she'd been terribly reluctant to give the blade back afterwards, when Ceridwen had called everyone to dinner. Loghain hadn't said so, but he considered it hers now – he just didn't want her to carry a weapon before she was proficient enough to wield it. If she traipsed around with a sword strapped to her back she might be a danger in the eyes of enemies – and that was a risk he wasn't ready to take.

All in all it had been a nice evening. The little romp he'd had with Ceridwen in the woods had been very pleasurable indeed, and Wynne had apologized for her earlier remark after they had eaten their fill of delicious roasted pheasant, and had offered to take first watch with Fluffy.

He stowed his weapons and stretched, wincing as something popped in his spine. He was very glad they had the wagon; they could transport enough straw-filled mattresses and furs to make comfortable bedding for all of them. Ceridwen had already prepared theirs; two of the pads pushed together and covered with thick sheepskins. There was a blanket covering them that was patched together with rough thread from fur-scraps of various sizes, wolf mostly, he thought. But it looked warm, and seemed big enough to cover both him and Ceridwen.

She entered the tent and he looked up.

"Did you make that yourself?" he asked her, holding up the blanket.

"Yes, I did. I made those for all my companions. We killed a lot of wolves during our travels and usually bartered the fresh skins for tanned ones and the scraps you see."

"For all your companions but me, it seems."

Ceridwen shrugged.

"You had your own stuff; most of the others didn't have any travelling gear when they joined my Merry Band of Misfits, as you're so fond of calling them. We had to buy everything, and we were always short on money. And these blankets don't take all that long to make, are cheap, durable and wonderfully warm. Morrigan gave me the idea, and I made them one by one during the summer, because I knew that we would need them sooner or later."

Loghain smiled at her discomfort. He thought it was rather sweet that she felt uncomfortable.

"You had other things on your mind than to make me a fur-blanket. As for this one; I can't wait to try it out," he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

Ceridwen laughed and undressed too, and they slipped beneath the wide blanket as soon as they were nude. If there was trouble, everyone would be treated to an eyeful of naked Hero of Ferelden and Hero of the River Dane, and that would be that, he thought as he blew out their lantern.

She had been right, it was wonderfully warm, especially with her cuddled up to him.


	8. Truth or Dare Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Ceridwen can do mercy, but she's not all that good at the whole forgiving-thing... The rage depicted here in this chapter is courtesy of the DA2-demo. Boy did that ever get me into the right mood!
> 
> I have gotten requests about describing what Ceridwen looks like – and I reread my story, and realized that I haven't lost a word about her appearance yet, other than saying that she has long, reddish hair. My bad! I hope I could rectify that a little in this chapter.
> 
> Oh, and bathtub-fun time alert! I love bathtub-fun time. As for the role-playing – I like writing erotica, and one of the problems one quickly encounters when writing a couple for a while, is that the sexytimes grow stale sooner or later, even if one can think of many ways to describe the foreplay – sex - afterglow. The role-playing thing allows for many variations of tone and theme though, and I hope this will help keeping things fresh. And yes, there will be sub!Loghain scenarios in the future too.
> 
> My thanks to Shakespira for advice, support, and hand-holding, and to mille libri for betaing!

 

 **Truth or Dare - Chapter 8  
**

by owlet

 

Wynne smiled at the antics of the children. Ceridwen had decided that they would spend two nights at the "Spoiled Princess", so that the children would have a whole day to play to their heart's content until they had to say good-bye to their friend. It was a rather warm, sunny day, and both Wynne and Ceridwen sat on a bench in front of the inn, watching them play on the meadow. Wynne had brought a book, but it lay open on her lap unread and ignored, as the children and an awkward Loghain proved much more entertaining.

It had all started as one of Keira's training-sessions with Loghain. Maric and Shirei were with Ceridwen and Wynne respectively for their daily lessons, when Loghain had stumbled backwards over something, and Keira leaped on top of him with her distinctive crow of victory; Maric and Shirei had exchanged a glance and a grin, and had raced to join their friend. The swords lay in the grass forgotten, as Loghain playfully wrestled with the three children.

Wynne glanced over at the mage beside her, who also watched the impromptu game with a slight smile on her face, her sewing on her lap, just as forgotten as Wynne's book. Ceridwen had taken a bath this morning, and with her hair loose and drying in the sun she looked painfully young in Wynne's eyes. The expression on the other woman's face was one she had seen in the mirror decades ago, before she had become as bitter and brittle as she was now. The look of a woman who was about to give away her heart.

Wynne hadn't stayed alive as long as she had by walking through the world blind. There had been something between Ceridwen and the former Regent right from the start – something that connected them in a way. If it was just fate, or shared experience, or simply the respect and understanding that long-time opponents developed – she couldn't say. And then they had started sleeping with each other for reasons Wynne could fathom even less. Certainly, Loghain Mac Tir was a handsome man (she was old, not blind), but he was also utterly ruthless, dangerous and driven. How could her young friend not see that? One did not need to be a clairvoyant to see the catastrophe looming on the horizon.

"Copper for your thoughts?"

Wynne blinked and turned to face the young woman next to her.

"I was only wool-gathering. How is your project coming along?" she asked, indicating the misshapen pile of partially sown together fur scraps.

"Almost finished; this is the last seam. Then I only need to stuff it and make the face."

Loghain had overpowered Maric and tickled him mercilessly with the two girls pulling at his shirt trying to save the boy, exuberant shrieks and laughter drifting over to the two mages.

Ceridwen laughed at the sight and shook her head.

"Who would have thought him capable of this? He looks like a boy himself. No wonder Anora adores him so," she said, her pleasant, alto voice mirthful.

Wynne just shook her head. She had gotten used to it, but many people were surprised when they heard Ceridwen speak for the first time; her rather sweet, round face with its big, innocent looking blue eyes made one expect a chirping soprano. She wasn't beautiful like Morrigan, or like Wynne herself had been in her youth, but pretty in a way that made people feel protective towards her, because she looked utterly harmless.

"Yes, perhaps," Wynne answered, and Ceridwen went back to her sewing.

Now the children had made Loghain fall on his back again and tickled him. He was laughing, but she couldn't tell if he was pretending for their benefit, or if he was really ticklish.

"I was thinking about your attachment to him, actually," Wynne admitted.

Ceridwen sighed and lowered her needle again.

"Wynne, please."

"I'm not trying to lecture, I just want to understand what drove you into his arms."

"I know this sounds strange, but I feel safe with him. Protected. During the last year everyone was leaning on me. First it was Alistair, then it was most of our company, then all of bloody Ferelden. Everybody was looking to me for guidance. But who could I lean on? He knows what that's like, and he doesn't look up to me like that. He just is," Ceridwen replied thoughtfully.

"Do you love him?"

Ceridwen shook her head decisively.

"I like him, and I respect him, and I think, I hope, that's mutual. He's fun in bed, not all that experienced, but a quick learner. Very open-minded when it comes to the things mages do," she said, sharing a knowing grin with her fellow mage. "But no, love is not part of the equation."

"If you say so," Wynne said, shaking her head with a thin smile.

"Yes, I do say so. I know that only pain and despair lie down that path. I'm not going to make that mistake. I think I'm actually quite safe with him, it's rather unlikely that he'll ever develop feelings for me," Ceridwen answered, her voice steady and matter-of-fact.

"Oh, I don't doubt that for a minute," Wynne replied, carefully keeping her voice light. The poor girl was in over her head already, even if she didn't see it. One could only hope for the best.

...

Ceridwen had retreated to their room to stuff the second toy-Mabari she'd sewn with cloth scraps, unspun wool, and sweet-smelling twigs of lavender. She was just finished sewing on buttons as eyes when Loghain entered, grass in his hair and green stains on his shirt, followed by her dog.

"Those turned out pretty well," he said, taking the one she'd finished earlier and inspecting it.

"Would you like one too?" Ceridwen teased him as she clipped the last thread.

"I think I'm a little too old for something like that," Loghain said with a smile, and quickly sat the stuffed dog back on the bed. "But imagine; to receive stuffed toys, sewn by the Hero of Ferelden herself. They are going to tell that to their grandchildren one day."

"Yes, as if rolling in the grass with the Hero of River Dane is anything different. Come here, you've got some of said grass in your hair. And not even magic will be able to get the stains out of that shirt," Ceridwen said with a mock-frown as she tugged at the offending article of clothing.

"You just want me to take it off," he teased, pulling it over his head.

Ceridwen took a step back and eyed him appreciatively.

"Perhaps," she grinned and smoothed her palms over his chest and abdomen, before linking her hands loosely behind his back. "You know, we haven't tried out this bed yet. Do you think it's sturdy enough?"

"We slept in it last night, dear."

"Yes, but we didn't do anything else. And if the innkeeper is going to fix a sign over the headboard saying, in this bed the Hero of River Dane shagged the Hero of Ferelden, the least we can do is to make sure that the good man doesn't unwittingly lie," Ceridwen chortled into his chest.

Loghain lifted her effortlessly and let her drop on the bed.

"Just you wait," he growled and pounced.

There was a knock at the door in that exact moment and Loghain lowered his forehead to Ceridwen's chest with a frustrated groan before he let her up to open the door.

"You said you wanted us to come to your room after our bath," Shirei said, Maric at her side.

"Yes, come in. I've got something for you," Ceridwen invited the children, stepping aside to let them pass.

Loghain, who had hastily thrown on another shirt, handed her the two stuffed Mabaris.

"Here, one for each of you. Give it a name, and hug it tight when you sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning you are going to switch them, so each of you has a Mabari that the other has named and held."

"I will name mine Fang," Maric declared with the kind of dignity that only an eight-year-old boy could possess.

"Fluffy!" Shirei squealed happily, hugging the fuzzy toy tightly to her. "I name him after your dog."

The real Fluffy let out an approving bark and proudly sat there, wearing his usual doggy-grin, his tongue lolling.

Maric didn't look happy at all that he'd have a stuffed dog named Fluffy of all things, but he didn't complain, burying his face in the soft fur of Fang instead.

"Now go, show Wynne," Ceridwen said with a smile, and the children bounded out in search of the mage, Fluffy trotting after them.

"Why did you make these toys anyway?" Loghain asked after she had closed the door .

Ceridwen shrugged.

"You got Keira a sword. I wanted Shirei and Maric to have something too. Both will be very lonely in the coming months, and the stuffed animals will remind them that they've got a friend. Especially Shirei. She is small and timid; I don't think she'll find friends all that easily."

"You see yourself in her."

"Yes, a bit. I was about seven or eight when I was brought to the Tower, and I remember being very scared. I was too afraid to talk to anyone, so I was always alone. And then there was this boy nobody liked because he was weird. He was older than I, but somehow he became my best friend. My only friend, in fact," Ceridwen answered and stepped close to Loghain, who pulled her into his arms.

"Go on," he murmured against her hair.

"I began to excel at my studies, and where the others had thought me inconsequential before, they were jealous then. Jowan never was a very good or powerful mage, but he always remained loyal to me. And then the First Enchanter made me betray him. I ran to Irving, and told him of Jowan's plan to escape because I trusted him. I thought he'd put things to rights."

"And he didn't," Loghain stated.

"No, he did not. This is one of the reasons I decided to accompany Wynne here. I need to know what happened to my friend. Arl Eamon sent him to the tower immediately, but I have no idea what happened then. Nobody sent word."

Loghain rested his head on top of hers.

"And I'm not entirely blameless in this matter either," he muttered morosely.

"No, you are not. But after reading those letters at Ostagar, I understand the necessity. And it wasn't as if you told him to kill Eamon. And it certainly wasn't you who told him to get involved with blood-magic, that was his doing alone. You didn't sentence him to death either. That was Eamon."

Loghain cupped her face in his hands and kissed her delicately.

"Try not to think about it. We'll deal with all of this tomorrow."

"Yes," Ceridwen said, and returned his kiss. "But you've still got grass and the Maker knows what else in your hair. Well, since the children are done, I suppose we can have the tub now. I shall go and inform the innkeeper that the Hero of River Dane is in dire need of a bath."

She ducked away with a giggle, though not quickly enough to escape his swipe at her bottom.

The innkeeper fretted at her asking for the bathtub, saying that the hot water wasn't ready, but Ceridwen just waved him off and asked him to have it filled with cold water instead. When he looked at her completely baffled, she rolled her eyes and told him she'd heat it with magic, which she did.

Back in their room, Loghain collected his bathing supplies and eased himself into the hot water filling the spacious wooden tub with a contented groan.

"Shall I assist you with your bath, Milord?" Ceridwen asked with a broad grin on her face, stripping down to her thin shift, removing her breast-band and smalls from under it.

"Do you have any idea how many pretty young things have asked me that exact question over the years?" he replied wryly, raising an eyebrow. "I always declined, of course. But I think I might make an exception in your case."

"I feel quite honoured," she laughed.

"Then get to it, wench," he growled good-naturedly.

Ceridwen laughed again and started picking the debris out of his dark mane before using a jug to wet it.

Loghain made small, appreciative noises as she massaged some soap into his hair, and Ceridwen took the opportunity to trail her fingers over the nape of his neck too; she had quickly discovered that this was one of his favourite spots.

After rinsing away the suds she picked up his sponge and soap to rub at his neck and shoulders, delighting in how the muscles slid beneath his skin as she guided the sponge along one strong arm, then the other. His chest was next, then she humbly bid him stand so she could clean the rest of his body.

"Tell me, do you have that ointment with you? The one mages use?" he asked her as she dragged the sponge over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

"I do indeed, Milord," Ceridwen answered cheekily, running her fingers teasingly through his coarse pubic hair. Not that she would get rid of all of it, just here and there. Balls and buttocks, she preferred them smooth and hairless on a man.

She retrieved it and bid him stand in the tub with his legs spread so she could reach the areas she wanted. The ointment was of a smooth, creamy substance and almost odourless, smelling only faintly of honey.

"Don't be alarmed, Milord, this will tingle somewhat. But it's a very nice tingle," she said, spreading it on the parts she thought appropriate, watching with fascination as he hardened.

"How long does it take to work," Loghain asked slightly breathless.

"A few moments, until the tingling stops," Ceridwen answered.

One of his hands tangled in her hair and pulled her head closer to his groin.

"I suggest you entertain me with your mouth in the meantime," Loghain ordered, and Ceridwen slowly opened her mouth for him with a faux-embarrassed flutter of her lashes.

She closed her eyes as she let the firm, warm flesh pass her lips, and flicked at him with her tongue. He had come to like this very much since she had introduced him to to the pleasure, and she was glad that he had, since she loved doing this. Even though the act of it seemed submissive, she liked the sense of power it gave her, to make her lover groan and tremble as she pleased. She also hoped that he would return the favour later, as he had become quite adept at pleasuring her with his lips and tongue. It was amazing what he was capable of when he turned his considerable mental faculties that usually planned battles and complicated strategies to the task of pleasing her, of making _her_ sigh and tremble.

By now he knew how far she could take him, so she had both hands free to travel up the back of his thighs, and squeeze his buttocks. They were firm, like the rest of him, and Ceridwen had noticed that more than one woman's eyes wandered into that direction as they came through towns and villages. And it was all hers, she thought with a mental grin, since her mouth was busy travelling over the delicate skin of his erection.

He came soon after, spilling salty seed into her mouth.

"Has it stopped tingling yet?" she asked.

"Yes, so what's next?"

"You rinse. That's it," Ceridwen replied, letting her hand slide along his body as he settled back into the water.

"Interesting", he said, "It feels quite different. The Circle could probably make a fortune if the mages decided to sell that stuff."

Ceridwen laughed.

"And the demand would be so great that the Tranquil and Mages never had any time to do other things than to stir big vats of Fuzz-Be-Gone. Oh no. And we like having that to ourselves anyway. The rest of the world doesn't think we're worth their time, much less their regard. Why would we share something that pleasurable with them? Nah, let them be all scruffy and miserable."

Loghain laughed at her words and pulled her down for a kiss, caressing her breasts through her shift.

"Now how about we get back to our game? The water is getting tepid, and your task is not finished yet, wench," he said with a grin and a pinch to her nipple.

"As you wish, Milord," Ceridwen replied with a wink, and grabbed a towel.

He rose and stepped out of the tub, wet skin glistening in the golden light of the sunset that filtered through the crown glass window, dripping water everywhere. Ceridwen quickly started drying him, rubbing the towel over his muscular torso and long limbs, unable to resist trailing open-mouthed kisses in the wake of her ministrations, her lips following the contours of sinews and muscles, running over scars old and new.

"Hm... thank you, that was quite thorough," Loghain complimented her when she was finished.

She smiled and bade him to lie on the bed on his stomach, and with a quizzically raised eyebrow he did.

Ceridwen returned the jar with the Fuzz-Be-Gone to her pack, and took out a flask containing scented oil. She sometimes used it on her own skin, but it would fit him too, as she wasn't too fond of sweet smells, and preferred a more tart blend of lavender, citrus, and a musky, earthy scent imported from the far north that she had forgotten the name of, then followed her lover to the bed. Trailing her fingertips down the middle of his back she straddled his hips, and poured some of the oil on her hand to warm it between both palms before spreading it on his back.

"Hm... oh yes," Loghain sighed as she started kneading at the muscles of his back. She found several knots and gently rubbed them out, earning appreciative grunts and groans for her efforts. She smiled thinly, remembering Zevran's offer to teach her Antivan massage techniques. She doubted very much that he knew anything more effective than what she had learned during her time in the Circle. Or anything more erotic, she thought, letting her fingers warm and vibrate subtly, sending minute shocks through Loghain's skin that helped his muscles relax.

When she had worked her way over his back, she turned around and moved on to the lower part of his body, starting with the soles of his feet, then on to his calves and thighs, letting her humming fingers slip down the cleft between his legs time again to tease the sensitive area behind his scrotum until he started to shift restlessly beneath her.

When Ceridwen asked him to turn around, she wasn't surprised to see that he was hard again, but she ignored that, and straddled him, letting his stiff shaft nestle between her buttocks, but nothing more as she started on his arms.

"They do teach you well at the Circle," Loghain quipped as she moved on to his chest. "I might just keep you around."

"We always aim to please," she joked in return. His skin had absorbed the oil and altered its scent into something different yet utterly delicious, and Ceridwen slowly bent down to nibble at his neck, and his arms came up around her, his strong hands rubbing her back through her shift before urging her to discard it.

It fell to the floor unheeded as they began to kiss fervently, and Ceridwen felt one of his hands stray between her legs to caress her.

"You are wet, my dear, all silky and slippery," Loghain murmured into her ear and rolled them over so he was on top of her. She spread her legs wide, and he hooked his arms under them, lifting them over his shoulders before entering her.

He moved slowly, languidly, and Ceridwen closed her eyes in bliss as she reached between her legs to help herself along.

Afterwards they lay entwined and she listened to his steady heartbeat until they got up for dinner. A Warden's appetite for food was quite difficult to ignore, after all.

...

Ceridwen entered the Circle Tower with mixed feelings in the next morning. It still was the only home she'd ever known, but her memories of it weren't entirely fond ones.

The Templars guarding the door nodded at her respectfully as she passed them and she nodded back at them warily. She had probably saved their asses back when the tower was overrun with blood-mages and abominations, but she couldn't help but wonder how long it would take them to forget that.

She barely met anyone as she and her companions made their way to Irving's office; after that terrible incident, there weren't many mages left to walk the halls and to study in the great library of the Circle. The repairs were still in progress, but she could see that the worst damage had been fixed; there were still a few holes in the walls, but the bookshelves were back where they belonged, books filling them again in an orderly manner.

The First Enchanter's study was exactly as she remembered it, the clutter, the haphazard assortment of furniture, the lit fireplace with the copper kettle, blackened by years of use. How often had she sat in one of the armchairs near the fire and watched Irving make tea for them? How often had she come to him with worries, great and small? Marinna hadn't been exactly her friend, but she had liked her, even if they had barely spoken. Everybody had liked Marinna, she had been one of those people so friendly and soft-spoken that it was impossible to dislike them. When she had committed suicide over the loss of her baby to the Chantry, Ceridwen had been horrified. She had fled here and Irving had comforted her, held her as she, fifteen at the time, had bawled her eyes out.

Irving greeted her warmly, but she found that she couldn't return his smile. She had been his favourite, and he had been a surrogate father for her – yet he still hadn't hesitated to sacrifice her in a scheme to get back at the Knight-Commander. And when everything had gone from bad to worse, when Jowan had revealed himself as a blood-mage and Greagoir had been out for her blood, he hadn't tried all that hard to save her, had dropped her into Duncan's lap instead as soon as the Warden-Commander had proclaimed an interest in her.

No, she was quite through with Irving.

"First Enchanter, I've brought you a new apprentice. This is Shirei of Denerim."

Irving peered at the elven girl and gave her a friendly nod.

"Welcome to your new home, Shirei. Wynne, I take it you'll be staying this time?"

"Yes, I feel ready to return to my duties here, if I may. I have missed the young ones, and I would like Shirei to be my apprentice. She shows great promise as a healer," the mage answered, laying a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder.

Irving rubbed his hands.

"So that's settled then. And the other two?"

"They are her friends who accompanied her here. They will be returning with me," Ceridwen interjected, surprised at the edge in her voice.

"Well, come, children. I'll show you where the kitchen is. If I remember correctly, the cook always has some cookies ready for hungry children," Wynne said and led the children out, leaving Ceridwen and Loghain alone with the First Enchanter.

Irving sighed and gave Ceridwen a long, thoughtful look. He looked older than she remembered him, a stiffness in his movements and a fatigue in his eyes that hadn't been there before the attack on the Circle.

"I'd like to speak to you alone, if you don't mind," he finally said, sounding tired, glancing at Loghain who stood at her side, dark, silent, and forbidding.

Ceridwen was unmoved.

"There is nothing we can discuss that Warden Loghain can't hear. I would rather he remained."

Resignedly the old mage waved them into armchairs before sitting down himself.

"You used to trust me once, Ceridwen."

"Yes, and look where that has gotten me," she scoffed.

"It was the only way to enable you to leave the tower permanently. You are such a free spirit, you would have perished in here."

For a moment Ceridwen was unable to speak past that huge knot of anger in her chest.

"Are you trying to tell me that you did this for my own good? You deprived me of my best friend, of my home, my future in the Circle, made me go and fight Darkspawn, and the bloody Archdemon _for my own good_?" Ceridwen shouted, her voice rising with every sentence.

"I only tried to teach you caution."

Ceridwen jumped up so forcefully that her armchair toppled over.

"You taught me that I can trust no-one. That those closest to me are all the more likely to betray me. You taught me that I can't even trust you, the man I have loved like a father. Tell me, what have you done with Jowan after Arl Eamon sent him here?" she hissed, closing in on her former mentor, who shrank back into his armchair, a look of trepidation and regret on his lined face that she had never seen before.

Irving avoided her eyes as he answered quietly.

"He was executed as soon as he stepped into the Tower. We couldn't risk him escaping again. I'm sorry."

Ceridwen straightened, magical energy cackling around her.

"I bet you are, First Enchanter. So sorry that you couldn't even be bothered to inform me. Listen to me very carefully. Should I ever hear that Shirei got hurt in one of your power-games, I'll be here faster than you can blink to conscript you. And then I shall watch with a smile on my face when you die during the Joining," she said very quietly, then turned to her companion. "Loghain, we are done here."

She left the office in a rush, Loghain at her heels. A Templar stepped into her path, but she just snarled at him. "If you even think about holy-smiting me, I'll smite you. Out of my way."

"No... my lady, please, I was just tasked with giving you a message. The Knight-Commander wishes to see you," the Templar said in a rush, clearly afraid of her. His voice sounded very young, even distorted as it was through the helmet, and when he removed what all apprentices referred to as the _Bucket_ , she saw that this impression had been right. He was all milky skin and scared, liquid eyes.

Ceridwen deflated a little.

"I'm sorry. Please lead the way," she said, even though she knew the way perfectly well. She felt like she had offended this puppy of a Templar enough.

"Is it safe to talk to you?" murmured Loghain from next to her, a half scared, half amused look on his face.

Ceridwen snorted inelegantly.

"Of course. Tell me, have you ever met Greagoir?"

"No, I can't say I have."

"He's a bastard. But at least he's an honest bastard," Ceridwen said, grinning as the puppy-Templar leading them made a strangled noise in his throat.

...

Loghain noticed that the Knight-Commander's office was a lot less cluttered than Irving's had been. The man himself was standing near the window, his countenance thoughtful, and he didn't greet Ceridwen with a smile either, his ageing face passive and unreadable. All good Commanders knew how to wear that look, and Loghain, an expert on it himself, knew that it could hide quite a number of things.

"Warden. I trust you are well," the Templar said curtly, nodding minutely at Ceridwen. "You are Warden Loghain, I presume."

"That is correct, Knight-Commander," Loghain answered, and the Templar seemed contented to leave their interaction at that, and turned back to Ceridwen who returned his nod.

"Yes, thank you, Knight Commander. You wished to see me?"

Greagoir nodded.

"Yes, there is a problem you could help me solve. You remember the mage Anders, I presume."

Loghain almost snorted derisively. No wonder he was being so civil, he wanted her to do something for him.

"I recall him, yes."

Greagoir sighed.

"He's a likeable lad, but I'm afraid I can't be lenient with him any longer. He was brought back yesterday from his latest escape-attempt, and most of the Templars are demanding that he was made Tranquil."

Loghain saw Ceridwen flinch, her face going white.

"Tranquil? Anders? But he's harmless, he'd never do something as stupid as taking up blood-magic or consorting with demons!"

The grizzled Templar raised his hands in a soothing gesture.

"I know. I know the boy. But I fear that I have no choice but to do as the others ask or send him to Aeonar."

Ceridwen crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively.

"Oh? Why are you so worried? I don't remember you being so concerned about my welfare after that debacle with Jowan."

The Knight-Commander went over to his desk and sat down in his chair, his economic, precise movements a telling sign of his abilities as a fighter.

"I know. Recent events, however, have opened my eyes a little. It is our duty as Templars to punish mages who commit crimes, but we must also protect them; from outside threats, and even more from themselves. If our hold on them is too restrictive they get desperate and rebel, and that only leads to unspeakable tragedy. I'm not entirely unsympathetic to their situation, Warden."

"I see. Now what about Anders?" Ceridwen asked, her voice betraying her mistrust.

"I can't let him stay, and I can't let him go either. But maybe you might have a use for him? Let him become a Grey Warden. That way he can live outside the Tower, and perhaps do some good. I'm sure you remember that he's an exceptional healer."

Ceridwen let out a short, sarcastic bark of a laugh.

"And he'll be out of your hair, and someone else's problem, you mean."

The Knight-Commander didn't flinch at her accusation, and held her gaze steadily.

"Yes, that is true. So, will you consider this?"

Ceridwen nodded.

"Certainly. Where can I find him?"

"He's in solitary confinement at the moment. Roderic will escort you there. The Templar who brought the message."

"Very well. There is another matter that I'd like to discuss with you, Knight-Commander."

"Yes," the Templar prompted her with another curt nod.

"I'd like to see my records. I want to know who my family is. Where I come from."

Loghain raised his brows in surprise. She had never told him about her desire to reconnect with her kin. It occurred to him that though she spoke freely of her past, she never really shared her current thoughts and feelings with him. He shrugged it off; he wasn't exactly one to inspire confidence, after all.

"I can't very well deny you that wish, but are you sure that's wise? The chance they will welcome you is very small indeed," he said haltingly, his brow furrowing in displeasure.

"Maybe they will, maybe they won't; I'm under no illusion as to how people regard mages. There is only one way to know, though, is there?" Ceridwen snapped impatiently, and the Knight-Commander nodded with a sigh.

"If you're sure. I'll have a copy of the report ready for you when you leave," he said, standing and moving over to the shelves to look for the right ledger.

"Thank you, Knight-Commander," Ceridwen said neutrally and turned to leave.

Loghain followed her out and fell in step next to her as the young Templar she had frightened so led them to the prison where the mage was held. A healer? That was fortuitous, since Wynne had left them. Not that he was sad to see the old crone go, but her healing abilities had been very convenient.

Loghain looked around as they made their way through the tower and shuddered. The only time he had ever set foot in here was years back when Maric had gotten himself into trouble by following Grey Wardens about. He had been too preoccupied with thwarting an Orlesian plot and saving his friend at the time to really look, but as he gazed around now, he couldn't help but shudder. This really was a prison. Uldred had been absolutely right when he had approached Loghain, the Templars were everywhere, and the mages flitted by them like scared mice, trying not to be noticed. There were no doors to the mages' quarters, they weren't allowed any privacy. Nobody should be forced to live like that, children least of all. He hoped Ceridwen knew what she was doing, leaving little Shirei here.


End file.
